Whispering Pines
by PennyCent
Summary: A variation on the episode The Duke of Whispering Pines. WARNING: May contain some spoilers for season four episode eighteen. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

_If you haven't watched season four episode eighteen, The Duke of Whispering Pines, you should probably do so before reading this story. __**Warning: **__There are some spoilers, but, probably after the first chapter or two, I plan on veering away from the original story line. This is one of those 'what if' kind of pieces. __**Disclaimer:**__ Sadly, I do not own the A-team._

_*Special Thanks to StriderX for some good advice. _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

The orchestra of crickets eased Murdock's frustration a little._ How did those little buggies know Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G major? Now that was talent._

The captain sighed, his delight in the musical savants of the insect world fading. A night such as this shouldn't have been so miserable, but, with BA and himself locked in jail, what else could it be? Plus, of all things, he was stuck wearing a suit.

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Murdock frowned up at the dark ceiling. At least BA let him have the top bunk.

Still, he couldn't puzzle out what had gone wrong. The con should've worked. After all, he'd borrowed one of Face's best. For Murdock, it all boiled down to one vague conclusion. There was just something hinky about the town of Whispering Pines. Ok, it wasn't the best sleuthing he'd ever done, but it was a start.

The soft scraping of the jailhouse door being jimmied broke his concentration. Leaning forward, he heard BA stir in the bottom bunk.

Sitting up, the sergeant cast a worried glance across the room. "We got visitors."

The way Murdock saw it, they were either about to be rescued or they were in for a world of hurt, because there were only two types of people that would be sneaking into the jail in the dead of night. He was _really_ hoping the culprits were gonna be Face and Hannibal. It had been a couple of hours since he'd used his one phone call to talk with the Colonel, so it was possible.

Murdock squinted as the lights clicked on_._ Rifles slung over their shoulders, three men sauntered into the jailhouse. Darn, this _really_ wasn't looking like a rescue.

A quick assessment of the denim clad men told the captain all he really needed to know. The man who looked to be the youngest of the three was in charge. Some bigwig must have been the kid's dad— that was the only way the little weasel would've been put in charge of anything. For clarity, or amusement, it was hard to say which, Murdock decided to mentally refer to him as Levi. The other two were obviously his henchmen. They earned themselves the nicknames Tweedledee, for the one with the hat, and Tweedledum, for the plump, mustached one.

Looking very satisfied with himself, Levi leaned back and grinned through the bars at BA and Murdock. "Well, lookie who we got here. This must be the Jason Duke fan club."

After wiping his nose with his handkerchief, being sure to stay in his nasally businessman voice, Murdock spoke. "You fellas wouldn't happen to be deputies, would you?"

Levi laughed, a little harder than was necessary. "That's a good one."

Glancing down, Murdock muttered, "I thought so." He was getting a really bad feeling about this.

"I tell you what…" Levi said as Tweedledum retrieved the jailor's keys hanging on the far wall. "You boys have done your time, been here long enough."

Murdock sat up as Tweedledum walked over and unlocked the cell door. Ok, if they played this real cool they might just get out of there in one piece, but the captain didn't much care for that mischievous gleam in Levi's eyes.

"We like it here. In fact, we're looking forward to breakfast in the morning," Murdock said as he slid down from his bunk and stood next to BA.

Tweedledum swung the door open.

Watching with anticipation, Levi smiled. "Yeah, well you can catch breakfast in another town, that is, if you cooperate."

BA stepped out of the cell first, meeting with a quick jab to the gut from the butt of Tweedledee's rifle. Doubling over, the sergeant gave only the slightest of gasps. Murdock fought back the urge to leap forward and attack. The odds were stacked too high against them. Instead, he remained placid as Tweedledum stormed forward, grabbed him by his tie and pulled him out of the cell.

Leaning down toward BA, Levi asked, "Now, uh, what do you know about Jason Duke?"

Murdock held his anger in check, still playing his part. "Boy, this fella's made a lot of friends in this town." He flinched as Tweedledum raised a gun to his chest. Yeah, humor apparently wasn't what these guys wanted.

Gaze focused on BA, Levi's voice turned cold. "I'm talking to ya, dipstick."

That was all it took to push the big guy over the edge. Anxiously, Murdock watched BA tackle Levi and pin him to the wall. Any possibility of them being allowed to leave suddenly evaporated.

Tweedledee quickly set into action, aiming his rifle at BA. "Hold it!"

Barrel pressed to his throat, BA let go of Levi. Still being held by his tie, Murdock swallowed down the lump of dread building in his throat. This really wasn't going to end well.

Glaring at BA, Levi was panting from the altercation. "Let's see how much he remembers with a noose around his skinny friend's neck."

Murdock glanced at BA, not liking the fear seeping into the big guy's face. They would get out of this, right? They always did. Still, he couldn't help but wonder…when had the crickets gone silent?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Rifle pressed to his back, Murdock stumbled outside. It was still dark, but through the trees he could see the faint light of morning brightening the eastern sky. No wonder the crickets had gone silent.

He turned, hearing the faint jingle of BA's gold, and was met with Tweedledum's cold glare. Staring into those eyes, Murdock came to one chilling conclusion. They weren't bluffing about the noose. These men were killers.

"Get moving." Tweedledum growled as Levi and Tweedledee emerged from the jailhouse with the big guy.

Murdock risked a glance at BA and immediately regretted it. Conveying the fear and helplessness surging through him, the Sergeant's dark eyes met his gaze. Murdock quickly looked away. Whatever calm he had clung to was dissolving. If BA, the team's strength, was giving in.._. _

The Captain squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the fear. No, this wasn't how it was going to end; he wouldn't let it.

"I said…" Tweedledum yelled, shoving Murdock. "…get moving."

Staggering forward, Murdock stared wide-eyed at the path in front of him. Slowly, he started walking, the footfalls of the others sounding behind him. The team had been in worse situations before, right? All he had to do was think of a plan. Yeah, that was it. They'd be fine. He started plotting, but every idea ended up having a fatal flaw—which was that they'd be killed.

"Here we are," Levi called out. "Why don't you fellas make yourselves at home."

Murdock blinked. They couldn't have been far from the jailhouse. How long had they been walking? A minute? Maybe two? Weren't these guys even the least bit worried about being discovered?

In the middle of a grove of trees, Levi strolled up to a pickup truck. With a grin, he hauled a couple coils of rope out of the truck bed. "Lookie what I got," he said proudly. "These might come in handy, yeah?"

After a quick nod to his boss, Tweedledee glared at BA and gestured toward the trunk of a large tree. "Sit there."

Scowling back, the Sergeant didn't move.

"He said," Tweedledum added, "sit there, _or_ your skinny friend here gets a belly full of lead."

Murdock cringed as the rifle barrel jabbed him in the stomach. Gut wounds were an awful way to go, but, in the same line of thinking, hangings didn't seem like a jolly good time either. Whichever way it went, he was still gonna be dead.

BA shrugged, his gaze shifting from one henchman to the other until he finally sat down. Tweedledee hastily took a length of rope from Levi and securely tied BA to the tree. He was so engrossed with what was happening to the Sergeant that Murdock failed to notice the scene unfolding behind him. It wasn't until he turned around that he saw what Levi had been up to with the other rope.

Above the truck, the noose swayed in the cool morning air.

Murdock took a half step back. There was nowhere for him to go; he knew that. Tweedledum was right behind him, yet…he had to get away. It wasn't fear flooding through him any longer; it was a soul-crushing terror. He trembled. A tingling numbness ran through him, as if his blood flow had forcibly reversed itself so that it ran contrary to what his body needed. He was about to take another step away from the truck when his hands were wretched behind his back.

Tweedledum's soft curses barely reached Murdock's ears as the man roughly tied the Captain's wrists together. By the time Murdock thought of struggling, it was already over; he was bound.

"Come on then," Levi said as he grabbed Murdock by the collar and pulled him forward. "We ain't got all day." Then, with a laughed, he added, "Well, at least _you_ don't."

Murdock started to struggle, but, as Tweedledee joined Levi, he was soon overpowered.

"Leave him alone!" BA's angry shouts rang out, echoing in the quiet morning. "He ain't done nothing to you."

The men ignored the Sergeant, their attention far too focused on their current victim. Though he was greatly outmatched, Murdock continued to fight back until, at last, the rough length of rope slipped around his neck. He froze, breath catching in his chest. This was it.

Levi gave a gruff laugh. "What you boys say we give it a try?"

Murdock's gaze quickly followed the path of the rope. It went up and over a thick tree limb, fell back to the ground and rested in Tweedledum's hands. The man gave a toothy grin as he looped the rope around his gloved hands. Murdock was able to draw in a one last shaky breath before Tweedledum gave a hard yank.

It was only a second, but the effect it had was horrific. A burning pain flared through Murdock's neck, he tried to gasp, but no air would fill his lungs. Then, as the rope grew slack, he collapsed onto the ground. Small breaths, that was all he could take; the noose remained tight, but, thankfully, he could still draw in air.

Then, he was being grabbed and lifted. Someone was saying something, but, still in shock, Murdock couldn't decipher what it was. Kneeling on the hood of the truck, he felt a slight tug on the noose.

"Come on, stand up, or he'll give it another pull…"

Murdock blinked. Stand up? Legs shaking, he slowly rose. Once he was all the way up, he felt a gentle tug around his neck. Hesitantly glancing over at Tweedledum, he found the man pulling the slack from the line and tying the anchor end of the rope around a tree. They were almost ready…

The truck door creaked open, and Murdock flinched as it slammed closed. That had to be Tweedledee. It was all happening so fast.

Behind his back, he could feel his hands shaking. He couldn't take much more…of being so afraid. Closing his eyes, he took in another shallow breath as the engine purred to life. He could feel the soft vibrations of the motor beneath his feet.

"Now…" Levi smiled down at BA. "I'm gonna ask you boys one more time. Who are you, and what do you want with Jason Duke?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Murdock opened his eyes. It was unfair; it was too much pressure to place on one man, but he stared hopefully at BA. Maybe, if the big guy could think up a good enough answer, he could buy them some time. They _needed _more time.

"Man, I told you, he owes us some money." BA tried to sound convincing, but even Murdock knew that lame excuse wasn't going to work.

Gaze darting back and forth between BA and Levi, the Captain waited nervously for the dreaded response.

Levi smiled. "A wise guy, huh? That's just what we need in Whispering Pines—some more entertainment."

That tone said it all. Murdock wanted to close his eyes, to look away, but he couldn't. He had to watch, his growing fear demanded it.

Levi turned, his crooked grin beaming up at Murdock. Their eyes met and any hope that the Captain had nurtured of gaining mercy died away. It was written in that cruel turn of his lips and the unnerving, apathetic twinkle in his stare; toying with life was a hobby for this guy.

Their gaze was still locked as Levi leaned forward, pounded on the hood and gave the command. "Pull out bro."

Murdock could hear the truck shifting. _Oh god, not yet_… His body shuddered with panicked hiccups of breath. He had to get control; he had to…

Slowly, the truck started to reverse.

Taking tiny, fumbling steps as the truck pulled away, Murdock glanced down at the end of the hood. Adrenaline flooding his system, his chest ached from the unforgivingly frantic rhythm of his heart. This wouldn't happen right? The guys would save him? He glanced at BA; the Sergeant was struggling with the rope that held him, but it was no use. The big guy paused, his sad eyes looking up, grief paining his face.

For a second, Murdock stared at BA and wobbled at the edge of the hood. Taking in one last breath, he really hoped someone would remember to take care of Billy for him, and then he fell.

The light, frantic feeling of falling ended abruptly as the rope snapped taunt, the weight of his body held by his neck. He had feared slow asphyxiation, but this...this was so much worse than he had imagined.

A horrible strain, filled with a burning pain, coursed through his neck. Airway closed, blood flow to his brain blocked, Murdock opened his mouth in a silent gasp. His lungs, trapped in an unnatural suspension, craved oxygen, but he could do nothing to ease the painful need.

He was almost beyond panic, legs twitching, feet searching for what he knew they wouldn't find—solid ground. _How much longer?_ That thought scared him.

Murdock glanced up at the sky; the shadowy trees loomed against the morning light. His vision clouded. He could feel the stagnation in his brain; deoxygenated blood already making his head throb. Vaguely, he heard a flurry of action, but he couldn't focus on it. He couldn't do anything…

A shot sounded, the rope snapped and then his body slammed into the ground. Instinctively rolling away from where he landed, he drew in a pained breath. He could hear the truck pulling away and more shots being fired, but everything was a blur of motion. Then Face was there.

Kneeling beside him, the Lieutenant gently took the noose off Murdock's neck and then moved to work on the binds holding his wrists.

"You ok, Murdock?" There was concern in Face's voice, more than usual.

Was he ok? Yeah…maybe. He wasn't sure, but he nodded anyway. His wrists came free and he rubbed them gingerly, something he didn't dare yet do to his tender neck.

"Really…" Face's cool blue eyes met Murdock's gaze. "…are you ok?"

Again, all the Captain could manage was a weak nod. He didn't want to talk about what had just happened. He wanted them _all_ to forget—to not dwell on it. Face must have taken the hint as he sighed and turned away to watch Hannibal and BA.

Murdock peered over; his mind still a smidgeon hazy. BA was free and, standing next to Hannibal, he held a rifle in his hands. He gave Murdock a questioning glance which the Captain quickly responded to with a forced grin. Relief washed over the Sergeant's face; his furrowed brow easing slightly.

"Alright…" Hannibal yelled with a cigar clenched in his teeth. "Let's get out of here before those guys come back with more of their buddies."

Face slowly stood, his attention clearly on the catering van Hannibal and he had arrived in. Murdock grinned. Facey had been making money hand over fist at the movie set with that van; he was probably pretty anxious to get it back.

Sitting up, Murdock took in a slow, even breath. Yeah, he'd be just fine. Good thing he had the fellas to help him out, although they did cut it a little close this time. Still, they deserved a thanks.

Murdock opened his mouth, ready to launch into an theatrical display of appreciation, but no words came out. With a deep, hot pain swelling in his throat, only a huffed hiss of air escaped him.

Face turned to him and frowned. "Um, did you say something?"

Confused, Murdock stared helplessly up at his friend. Slowly, he shook his head. No, he hadn't said a thing…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Dead silent, Murdock sat on the ground, waiting for Face's reaction.

Face's keen eyes narrowed, doubt and worry playing in his gaze. Murdock knew that look; Facey was wrestling with a decision.

A new, more subtle dread enveloped the Captain. When the guys found out he was hurting, that his voice was gone, how would they react? He could already picture their stares, full of pity, guilt. They would blame themselves; it wasn't their fault, but, Murdock knew, there would be no convincing them otherwise. If their roles had been reversed, he would've had the same reaction.

No, the team didn't need anything to distract them, not when they still had to help BA's old high school flame, Debra, find her husband. The mission came first; it always came first.

He swallowed, catching the grimace from crossing his face as the action brought a sharp pain blazing though his throat. This was probably nothing; he forced himself to believe that. The team didn't need to know, not yet. His voice would return, the pain would ease—he hoped.

The Captain fidgeted. Why hadn't Facey said anything? Murdock couldn't take much more of that icy blue stare; he didn't trust himself not to fold under that scrutiny. There had to be some way to make it stop, some way to…

"Guys…" Hannibal' firm voice broke into the stalemate. "I really wasn't kidding about getting outta here. Let's go!" With that, he swung into the passenger's seat of the catering van. "Sometime today would be nice."

Fighting back his unease, Murdock glanced hopefully over at Hannibal. This could be just the distraction he needed. He smiled gently as he watched the Colonel chew on his stub of a cigar; the man was defiantly on the jazz. The Duke, Debra's husband, was as good as found.

Returning his attention to Face, he offered up the most reassuring grin he could muster.

Face's eyes widened with a touch of surprise before he slowly grinned back. "You…" He paused, uncertainty still hinging in his tone. "…are one lucky man, Murdock. I didn't think Hannibal was going to be able to shoot that rope from a moving vehicle, but he proved me wrong." He held an arm out for the Captain.

Taking the offered hand, Murdock swayed a little as Face helped him to his feet, but, distracted by BA, the Lieutenant didn't seem to notice.

"_Hey!_ No way…" Letting go of Murdock, Face sprinted toward the van just as BA was climbing into the driver's seat. "_You_ are not going to drive. Not after last time. Do you know how much damage all that jostling around during that chase did to the catering equipment? There is no way that …"

BA cut him off quickly. "Man, I don't care as long as we get outta here."

There was a strange normality to the events unfolding and Murdock watched it with an odd mixture of comfort and disbelief. He didn't really want to be reminded of the terror that had just taken place, but still…hadn't it happened?

Making his way to the van, Murdock puzzled over the turn of events. Without drawing any attention to himself, he managed to open the sliding door and crawl inside. He wiggled his way to the rear of the van, hiding himself within the piles of catering supplies. He could hear BA clambered in next, his frustrated mumblings still focused on not being _allowed_ to drive.

The engine sputtered on, startling Murdock. He drew in a slow, shaky breath. He was safe; as he listened to the motor, he had to keep reminding himself of that. The noose was gone. He was with the team now. Everything was fine.

As the van started to move, he carefully reached up, his hand hovering over his tender neck. Without touching the flesh, he could feel the strength of the heat radiating off his throat. He tried to say 'hello,' but again there was only pain and a hiss of breath. Closing his eyes, he slumped back. It would be ok; as long as he could still breathe, it would be ok.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Face hopped into the driver's seat, guilt already nagging him. Murdock had been quiet—too quiet. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he spotted the Captain shifting his way to the back of the van before discreetly hiding from view; only the feathery brown hair on the top of his head could be seen from behind the mass of catering equipment. Face frowned. Something was definitel_y _wrong.

"Um…Hannibal?"

In the passenger's seat, the Colonel turned to Face. There was a sparkle of jazz in the man's eyes but it lay beneath a haze of concern. A small, tight frown pulled at the older man's lips, squeezing around the stub of a cigar in his mouth.

"I see it, Face." The Colonel glanced back, his eyes settling on the nearly hidden Captain. "I know…but we need to get moving. I'm not sure what the situation is with those thugs and I want to get somewhere secure before we figure this out."

Hannibal's gaze slowly shifted back to Face, and, seeing the questioning glint in the Colonel's eyes, the Lieutenant slowly nodded. Though he didn't like it, Face could understand the logic. Murdock would, unfortunately, have to wait.

BA's quiet grumbling broke up the tension as the large man slid into the van; he sat, rather awkwardly, in the tight space on the floor behind the passenger's seat.

Face sighed, turned the key in the ignition and quickly set off down the dirt road. "BA, who were those guys?"

"Dunno," BA growled, "but when I find out, I'm gonna make 'em pay."

"So…" Hannibal's gloved hand darted up, drawing the cigar from his mouth. "…what exactly did they want with you?"

BA let out an angry huff of air. "Wanted to know about the Duke. Kept asking us how we knew him."

"Yeah, so who is he exactly?" Face knew this had something to do with a letter BA had received; the big guy had stormed off after receiving it, but that was the only clue they had. "And where exactly am I going?"

"Take Mill up to 32nd and turn right." The Sergeant's response was swift, not leaving an opportunity for anyone else to answer. "That will take us to Debra's place. I gotta check in on her."

"Debra?" Hannibal raised a brow. "Who is Debra?"

An uncomfortable silence settled over the men. BA never did care much for opening up, but this time, he was going to have to give them something. Face waited, wanting to push for answers but knowing that would only make the Sergeant bottle them up even more.

"Debra and I dated a bit in high school…"

It took all Face's inner strength not to let any reaction out. He noticed that only a brief look of amusement fluttered over Hannibal's face.

Hesitantly, BA continued. "After we broke up, she started dating Jason Duke. They got married after graduation and well…he's missing now and Debra wanted my help to find him. She's the one that sent me that letter I got back at the movie set. So, after we got to Whispering Pines, Murdock and me started asking some questions in town at the bank the Duke worked at, but no one here seems to like anyone poking around looking for the guy. That's how we ended up in jail and then…"

Face grimaced. They all knew what had happened next.

Slowly, BA leaned forward, pressing himself between the two bucket seats. Face glanced down, alarmed at this sudden intrusion of personal space by the one man who would offer threats if you even glanced at him the wrong way.

"Um…" The whispered tone was odd coming from the Sergeant. "Is the fool…is he gonna be ok?"

The long, low sigh that escaped from Hannibal was far from reassuring; it sent a shiver up Face's spine.

In unison, all three of them glanced back at where Murdock hid. Both Hannibal and BA twisted around, peering back, while Face stared into the rearview mirror. It just so happened that Murdock peeked up over the stack of folding tables and chairs at that exact moment. His tired brown eyes suddenly widened in surprise as he spotted them and he immediately ducked back down.

"Crazy man ain't acting right, Hannibal, not for him anyway." BA frowned. "I don't like it."

"Me neither, BA," Hannibal answered softly. "Me neither."

Face stayed silent, letting his guilt and worry continue to nag away at him.

* * *

><p>Murdock had dared a quick glance when the hum of conversation had gone quiet. He hadn't expected to find all three men staring back at him. They knew something was wrong. He closed his eyes, hoping this wouldn't mess up BA's plans to help Debra. The big guy would never forgive him if…<p>

The van slowed, causing Murdock's heart to race. There was only one way out. He'd have to go out the side door; the back door didn't have a handle from the inside. The side door slid open, and he could hear BA fumbling out. Both front doors slammed shut; Face and Hannibal were out.

Murdock drew in a shaky breath. He didn't want to move; he wanted to stay hidden. Maybe the guys wouldn't notice. Maybe they'd let him just stay in the van for a bit. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

"Um…" Face's gentle voice sounded. "You ok in there, buddy? Maybe you could come out?"

Silence, that's all Murdock could answer with.

"I'll make it an order if I have to, Captain." Hannibal sounded stern, but even he couldn't hide the worry in his tone.

Murdock cringed. He hated being the weak link in the team. A broken mind was bad enough, but a body as well?

Slowly, he made his way out of the van. Shoulders hunched, head down, Murdock tried to keep his neck as hidden from view as possible. Sadly staring down, he frowned at the oversized suit he wore. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous in it.

"That was…" Hannibal faltered, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of his words. "That was an unfortunate turn of events. I-I'm sorry Face and I didn't get there sooner. Were you…were you hurt?"

Murdock shrugged and then timidly shook his head, never making eye contact with the Colonel.

Hannibal sighed. "I need to know, really. No more of this dealing with injuries on our own nonsense. We are a team. Now, how bad is it? Tell me."

Biting his lip, Murdock cast a quick, pleading glance at Face. It only took a second for a sad clarity to flash in the Lieutenant's blue eyes.

"Hannibal?" Face never took his gaze off Murdock.

"Yeah?"

Murdock didn't want to see the reaction; he turned his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

Face drew in a loud breath before speaking again. "I-I don't think he_ can_ speak."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Apparently, at least in Hannibal's view, idiocy had taken over the movie set. Besides losing three stuntmen to a rampant night of tequila consumption (the cameraman assured Hannibal that they would turn up _eventually_), the lead actress, Susan, decided to start playing diva. There was no way Hannibal could have stomached listening to her make one more pompous, asinine demand. Who really needed twenty red velvet pillows in their trailer? Worst of all, her stalling had put the whole production at least a week behind. Plus, she wasn't even classically trained; she recited her lines with the slow-witted enthusiasm of a buxom weathergirl. The gal was all body, no brains.

So, after receiving Murdock's rather cryptic call from jail, Hannibal had been more than ready for some action. He _needed_ the jazz.

Peeling Face away from the set had been slightly more challenging. The catering van, even with its notably lousy service and dubious food, was making a sizeable profit. Luckily, as soon as the Lieutenant heard the words _BA, Murdock_ and _jail_, he agreed to leave but only on the condition that they would high-tail it back as soon as the breakout was complete.

Hannibal sighed. The problems on the set seemed so trivial now that he was staring at Murdock.

A deep line of angry red flesh ran around the Captain's neck; he dipped his head, obviously trying to hide the ugly wound. Murdock's tall frame was hunched, his brown eyes cast down away from those watching him. The ill-fitting grey suit hung loosely off him; to Hannibal, the excess material and crooked tie made the pilot look like a child playing dress up. What had they been up to that got Murdock into a suit?

The silence hanging over the group had run too long; Hannibal knew it. Murdock clenched his jaw, but, other than that, his face was free of tension. Brow smooth, he stared blankly at the ground, waiting.

Hannibal opened his mouth, but what could he say? Hey, _I'm sorry you're a mute. _How had he missed such an obvious sign? The bubbly pilot being so silent should have tipped him off. The Colonel closed his mouth, a tightness setting into his shoulders. He had failed one of his men.

"I'm sorry fool." BA sheepishly stepped closer to the Captain. "I should have done more to stop 'em."

Murdock forced a sad smile onto his face and shook his head, still not looking up.

Knowing he needed to take control of the situation, Hannibal actively ignored his guilt; he could deal with that later. "Let's get inside and check on Debra, and get Murdock looked over."

Murdock's head tilted, his gaze focused not on Hannibal but on Face. The Captain's large brown eyes were full of some hidden message that Hannibal couldn't decipher.

"Um, Hannibal?" Face paused briefly, not speaking until the Colonel's attention turned fully to him. "Murdock would like to change out of the suit first, if that's ok."

Hannibal blinked. How in the world did Face come up with that? From a look? He knew Face was good, but really? He couldn't have seriously…

Hannibal glanced back at Murdock and was surprised to see a wide grin now gracing his face. Eagerly, the Captain nodded, affirming what Face had said. Standing tall now, the pilot eyed Face with a childlike admiration; it was as if he had just met Superman.

"Well then…" The Colonel gave a soft smile. "…I guess you should take him to BA's van so he can change then, ok?"

Face smiled. "Of course. I think Murdock is starting to feel too much like me in that getup."

A quick, breathless laugh escaped the Captain, and, though it made Hannibal cringe, Murdock hardly seemed bothered by the lack of sound.

"And," Hannibal added, still trying to suppress his guilt. "While you're there, you might as well move the van to someplace more discrete. I don't much care for that middle-of-town parking job. Meanwhile, BA and I will check in with Debra."

"Yeah, got it…" Face replied before wrapping an arm around Murdock's shoulder and leading the pilot away.

Hannibal watched them march off. He could hear Face's friendly banter as they left; there was something deeply comforting in the tone. Face wasn't just tending to an injured comrade but cheering up a brother.

Behind the Colonel, BA started to nervously shift. After everything that had happened, the Sergeant wouldn't dare make any demands, but he was obviously anxious to check on Debra.

Hannibal sighed; he didn't want to let another one of his men down. "Ok, BA. Let's go."

* * *

><p>Hidden in the trees, Rusty watched the men exit the white van. They would be trouble. Eyeing the large black man with the Mohawk, he frowned. <em>What did they want with Jason Duke?<em> Not even a good old fashioned hanging had gotten an answer out of them. Shoot; his pa was going to be mad. At least they had been easy enough to track down. They showed up at Debra's house just like he knew they would.

Slowly, the thin man slid out of the van. Even from so far away, Rusty could see the redness around the man's neck. He smiled as he eyed the hunched figure, admiring his work; it was unfinished work though.

He would have to kill them all before they found out about the mine. Funny, he had never had to hang a man twice before; would it be different the second time around?

Rusty watched with interest as the group split. The old man stayed behind with the Mohawked dude while the pretty boy and the lanky man in the suit strolled off toward town.

Rusty frowned. He would have to make a decision. Which group should he follow? Who did he want to inflict pain on first? Going with his gut, he smiled and stood. This was going to be fun.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_How did Facey do that?_ Murdock couldn't stop grinning. Faceman could _read his mind_!If he could have, the Captain would have let out a shriek that would have shamed any teenage girl's vocal abilities.

"Murdock…" Face sighed as they strolled along the back alley, heading toward where BA's van was parked. "I can't read your mind."

_He did it again! _Mouth open, all Murdock could do was gape at his friend. How could he even _try _denying he had this super human ability? This was fantastic! The Captain's jaw was actually starting to ache from all his grinning.

Face softly shook his head making a gentle '_tsk' _sound, but Murdock knew better; the Lieutenant was enjoying flaunting this talent.

"Come on…stop looking at me like that. I'm a conman, Murdock; you know that. I read body language, and, after so many years together, I can read you like a book—that's it."

Murdock crossed his arms. There was no way he was letting Facey off that easy. This was a super power and that was all there was to it. Why hadn't they tapped into this amazing talent earlier?

"Oh boy…" Faceman stopped, his blue eyes settling on the pilot. "You are not going to let this drop, are you?"

Murdock grinned; of course he wasn't letting this drop, but maybe they needed to test it out a little more thoroughly. Closing his eyes, the Captain focused all this energy onto the tune from Casper the Friendly Ghost. He was practically screaming the melody in his head.

"I don't know what you're thinking." Face turned away, resetting their leisurely pace. "But I imagine it's some cartoon jingle."

_That was close enough!_ Murdock's eyes popped open and he scrambled after Face. Filled with elation, the Captain started to think that maybe he didn't _really_ need his voice after all.

* * *

><p>BA was ringing Debra's doorbell before Hannibal had even made it to the porch. Yeah, maybe he should've waited for the Colonel, but it was too late to undo. He checked his posture, forcing himself to stand up tall and straight before he ran a hand over his face, his breath catching as the door swung open.<p>

"BA?" Debra eyed him nervously, keeping herself partially hidden behind the wooden door. "What are you doing here?"

"Debra, I-I…" He frowned; what did she mean asking what he was doing there? "I'm sorry we couldn't find the Duke yet, but my friends are here now." BA gestured to Hannibal as the older man came up the porch steps; the Colonel smiled and gave a slight nod. "We'll find Jason now, I promise."

"BA, you can't be here." She paused to glance around, peering up and down the empty street. "The Sheriff came by and said you broke out of prison." Her dark eyes settled on him, a tight frown marring her beautiful face. "You're a criminal, BA. I don't need to be seen with the likes of you."

"Debra…" BA stepped forward and was startled when she flinched. "What about the Duke?" He asked softly.

"H-he's fine." She was lying; there was an obvious quiver in lower lip. "I just talked with him on the phone. We just got mixed up, that was it. He'll be here soon and…and…you have to leave!"

Forcefully, before BA could act, Debra slammed the door shut.

Hannibal shifted uneasily, pulling a cigar from his jacket. "Um, BA? Are you sure she needs our help?"

BA sighed. "Yeah, Hannibal, she needs us. I'm sure of it."

* * *

><p>Rusty kept himself hidden as he watched the two men. <em>Who were these guys? <em>Someone must have tipped them off about the gold. Why else would they be looking for Jason Duke?

Wetting his dry lips, he smiled as he thought of the entertainment these men were going to provide him with. Killing them outright wouldn't be fun; plus, he had to find out if they knew anything about Jason Duke or the mine. He _needed_ to make them talk; that made him smile.

As soon as Roger and Jeff got back with the supplies, they'd make their move.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Murdock waited nervously in the alley, gently rubbing his temples. His head ached; there was a dull but growing throb behind his eyes. He sucked in a breath, his dry throat protesting in pain at the rush of chilly air. He was so thirsty. Trying to work up some saliva in his moistureless mouth, he eyed the alleyway hopefully. Face would reappear at any moment.

Another minute ticked by. The Captain bit his lip, terrible what-if scenarios playing through his head. He hated waiting, but Face wouldn't let him go with this time. People had already seen Murdock in town; they'd recognize him, and, since everyone assumed that he and BA had broken out of the jail, being seen probably wasn't a good idea. Still, Murdock didn't like the idea of Face getting the van alone. Whispering Pines was a tricky place.

His worries abated though as Face rolled up in the van. "Hey, Murdock, I'll park it here for a bit, to lay low, and give you a chance to change before we head back to Debra's, ok?"

Murdock nodded, trying to hide his relief over Face's return. This town was really starting to give him the creeps. Sliding the side door open, he jumped into the van and quickly located his neatly folded pile of clothes; Face must have done that, because Murdock was pretty sure he had just crammed them into a corner.

"Hey…um…"

The Captain paused, pants half on, and glanced up at Face, who was still in the driver's seat.

"There was a store open…" Face swung his door open and stepped out. "…I'm going to go back there and get us something to eat…_and drink_." He said the last part in a knowing tone.

_Damn._ Murdock frowned. Facey must have read his mind again; he could sense how thirsty he was. The prospect of a cold drink was tantalizing, but there was no way he wanted Faceman to go off alone…again. It was just too risky.

Frantically tugging his pants up, Murdock started toward the door.

"Hey now, you _can't_ go." Face held up a hand, halting the Captain. "It'll be fine. I'll be back in no time."

They stared at each other for a moment, locked in an uncomfortable stalemate, before Murdock finally gave a weak nod. He didn't like it, but Face wasn't going to back down, and his thirst drove him to give in.

Face smiled. "Good, see you soon." He quietly closed the door and, hands in his pockets, strolled down the alley.

Murdock watched, his stomach rolling with dread. It felt like alarm bells were ringing in his head. Goosebumps prickled his arms as Face rounded a corner, disappearing from sight. Quickly, the Captain turned back and, with renewed vigor, started to shed the rest of his suit in favor of his traditional garb.

After donning his jacket, he paused; there was something else he needed. Rummaging through the hidden storage compartments, he pulled out a pistol and tucked it into the back of the waistband on his khakis. He wasn't sure what was about to happen, but he was going to be ready for it this time.

* * *

><p>Face paid for the items, giving the elderly store owner a friendly smile. The man gave a near toothless grin back, a quick 'thank you' smacked out from his aged mouth.<p>

Taking the grape juice and applesauce, a nice soft food for Murdock, in hand, Face headed for the door. He knew Murdock was antsy about being alone, but judging from the way the Captain kept licking his lips and painfully swallowing, he must have been dying for something to drink. Plus, Face was getting tired of hearing the guy's stomach growling. When had he eaten last?

Out in the cool, crisp air, Face nonchalantly made his way down the street. He was a master of looking aloof, even when his senses were telling him to do otherwise.

"Hey." A gruff voice, too close for comfort, called out.

Face cringed. He could run, but that would just attract more attention. Slowly, he turned and was relieved to find only one short, young, blond man dressed in massive amounts of denim peering up at him.

The man grinned. "Ain't I seen you around here before?"

"No, I don't believe so. I'm just passing through." _Darn._ Did this guy recognize him from his wanted poster? That was the last thing they needed.

"Really?" The guy raised a brow, his grin held awkwardly in place. "Cause I think I know you from somewhere."

Face stepped back, not taking his eyes off the man. He was sure he could take the guy out if he needed to, but something in his head was sending out a warning. This felt like tangling with rattlesnake; it wasn't big, but it packed a deadly punch.

"You know, I just have one of those faces…" He took another step back, nearing the corner of the store. "I really must be going."

"Wait, I remember…" A sinister sparkle grew in the man's eyes. "You're with that skinny dude." He paused, slowly drawing out the next sentence. "The one we tried to hang."

A shock of adrenaline suddenly pumped through the Lieutenant's veins. Dropping the juice and applesauce, he turned, ready to flee, but found two goons had crept up behind him.

"Looks like you're coming with us," the blond laughed.

* * *

><p>Murdock had sat in the van for as long as he could before he exited and starting pacing in the alley. Where was Face? He should have been back already. Glancing down the alley again, he wondered how long he should wait.<p>

Unable to bear the worry any longer, the Captain was just about to head out in search of his friend when Face appeared, but he wasn't alone.

"How's it going?"

Murdock froze, eyes focused on the man who had just done him so much harm. He could feel a new tightness starting to take over his already sore throat.

One of the henchmen had a long knife pressed against Face's neck. The Lieutenant's eyes meet Murdock's, pleading for him to escape, but that wasn't possible. If he moved, Face was a dead man; they both knew it. The other henchman moved forward, roughly grabbing Murdock's arms and forcing them behind his back before tying his wrists together.

The man holding Face frowned. "Rusty, what we gonna do with them? Same as before?"

Rusty spun around. "Stupid, don't go using my name."

"Does it matter?" The man behind Murdock asked. "I don't think they're going to be telling anyone anything."

The three men laughed, fraying Murdock's nerves even further. He couldn't go through _that_ again. Desperately, he looked to Face, but there was little reassurance in the conman's eyes.

"This time," Rusty said, panting from his laughter, "we'll make the skinny one watch before he gets his turn."

Face frowned, but there was a hard determination and anger growing in his stare. He wasn't going to give up, so Murdock couldn't either; no matter how much fear was pumping through him, he would fight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

In the cab of the truck, Face sat quietly between Rusty, who drove down the rutted dirt road with redneck precision, and the henchman known as Jeff—a man with, judging by the stench of his sweat, an affinity for garlic fried foods. Face wrinkled his nose. He usually didn't mind the odor of garlic, but, exuded from the body in the form of perspiration, it certainly lost a lot of its charm.

"Don't get any funny ideas." Jeff growled, clasping his knife so tight his knuckles whitened.

Face sighed, rolled his eyes and then glared down at the floor. How many times was the guy going to threaten him with that blasted knife? It was getting a bit old. Yeah, he got it; he shouldn't try anything _funny._ Well, he could have since his hands were still free, but he wouldn't dare yet since good old Jeff was seated right next to him, eager to have something to stab…probably repeatedly.

The road wove up into the rolling foothills of the mountains. Pine trees loomed overhead. It was at least a good hour's hike, maybe more, back to town. Face sighed; he really didn't want to have to make that hike.

He glanced back at Murdock. Hands bound behind his back, the Captain sat in the truck bed, looking miserable, but that might have been due to the fact that Roger kept jabbing him in the belly with a rifle. Eyes narrowed, Face watched Roger carefully; he could see the man's mouth moving, but whatever he was saying was lost amid the din of travel. Murdock, however, seemed capable of hearing everything and whatever was being said had a grim effect on the pilot. Jaw clenched, eyes dull, he frowned down at his feet, a slow shudder working through his body.

Forcing himself to look away, Face tried to suppress his anger; they needed to stay in control if they had any chance of escaping. Still, when they were free…he was going to make these guys pay.

"Um, are we almost there?" He asked, keeping his voice calm, even. "I really do have a very tight schedule to keep."

Rusty sneered. "What's with all the comedians all of the sudden? Don't worry… " He gave a gritty laugh. "…you don't have to wait long."

Sure enough, the truck lurched to a halt.

As soon as they stopped, Face found himself being yanked out of the vehicle. Jeff held him firmly by the collar, pulling him backwards, still brandishing the knife.

Leaning close, garlicky aroma polluting the fresh mountain air, Jeff gave the low threat, "I'll cut you open if you try anything…"

"_Funny_, yeah, I know." Face couldn't help himself; it came out before he could stop it, but he regretted it as the knife tip pressed against his neck.

"That…" Jeff's breathing was low, hoarse. "…was pushing it."

In his peripheral vision, Face caught a flash of movement. Slowly, he glanced over.

Murdock was putting up one hell of a fight, but, with his hands bound, Rusty and Roger were easily overpowering him. There was a wild, blind fury in the Captain's eyes, and there was fear.

With everyone so distracted by Murdock, Face knew he had to act. He had to…

"If you try anything…" Jeff paused, obviously catching himself before uttering the word '_funny_.' "Roger will snap your friend's neck in an instant. He knows how. I seen him do it before. "

Face hesitated, watching as Rusty pressed the pilot up against a tree and Roger secured him to the trunk with a rope. Held firmly in the coils, Murdock went limp. Their opportunity was gone, hopefully they'd get another.

Obviously satisfied that their rope would hold, Rusty and Roger left Murdock and strolled over toward Face and Jeff. No one spoke as Rusty gathered a couple more lengths of rope from the truck.

Cold blade still pressed to his throat, Face watched Rusty toss one of the ropes up and over a high, strong branch on a nearby tree. He swallowed hard, eyeing the knot Rusty started to dutifully work on, but…something wasn't right. That wasn't a noose; it was a common slipknot.

An anxious curiosity settling over him, Face glanced over at Roger; the man was filling a thick burlap sack with large stones and then stringing a four foot rope through two reinforced rings at the top of the bag. _What were they up to?_

Suddenly, Jeff shoved him forward; Face stumbled and would have toppled over if Rusty hadn't caught him. There was a flurry of movement; hands grabbed at him. Face struggled, but, unsure of what was happening, and concerned mainly with protecting his neck, he couldn't quite fend off his attackers.

The three men stepped away, eyeing their handiwork.

Around Face's left wrist, the rope holding the sack of stones was tied. He stared down at the bag; it had to weigh about a hundred pounds. He really didn't like the idea of being attached to a hundred pounds of dead weight, but…

He glanced up at his right wrist held aloft by the rope Rusty had secured. The slipknot had tightened a little before Face had managed to grab hold of the rope, easing some of the tension. He frowned. They were going to hang him by his wrist? Well, it was probably better than his neck, but he still wasn't very fond of this plan.

"Don't worry," Rusty laughed. "It gets even better."

Face glanced up, his eyes settling on Roger and Jeff as they took hold of the anchor end of the rope attached to his right wrist. The two men braced themselves and then yanked, but Face didn't see any more than that. His world spun, literally.

Lifted into the air, he spun wildly around. His arms burning as his muscles tried to support both the weight of his body and the extra hundred pounds. He could feel his shoulders strain, nearly dislocating. Slowly the spinning eased into a gentle sway, and Face spotted Murdock.

The Captain squirmed and fidgeted with his restraints, virtually unnoticed by the three goons now engrossed in Face's struggle. Ok, if Murdock needed a distraction, Face could give it.

"So…um…now what?" Face aske, finally finding it hard to remain aloof. "I just hang here like this?"

Rusty chuckled, turned and walked to the truck, reached inside and pulled something out. He strolled back, humming to himself.

"Now, we use this," he said, holding up a five iron, "on our human piñata."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

BA crouched in the bushes, Hannibal at his side. Since they had left Debra's house, almost an hour ago, nothing had stirred inside. Still, they kept their vigil—mainly because the Colonel wouldn't ask BA to leave; they both knew he would refuse.

Hannibal stood and stretched. "Face and Murdock should have been back by now."

It was a gentle hint, one that frustrated BA. How could he choose between Debra and the team? It wasn't fair. Drenched in a cold sweat, he kept his gaze trained on the house's dark windows, hoping for a glimpse of her slender form.

"Yeah, well…" Hannibal squatted back down. "…I'm sure Face is taking care of Murdock." He gave a fleeting chuckle. "Probably took him out for ice cream or something. They'll be here soon."

BA didn't respond. He didn't know what to say. The fool was hurting because of him. He frowned, letting that fact wash over him. He should have done more to stop them—to stop those men.

He squeezed his eyes closed as the memories came flooding back—the swaying rope, the smell of the truck's heavy exhaust, the way the fool just dangled there, his feet kicking wildly.

Taking in a sharp breath, BA opened his eyes, immediately setting his gaze on the house…on the door swinging open. _Debra?_ Anticipation filled him as his eardrums pounded with the rhythm of his heart. It didn't matter if she had told him to go away; she needed help. He leaned forward, ready to soak up every image of her his brain could hold, but…it wasn't her on the porch.

BA scowled at the man. He didn't know who he was, but he _didn'_t like him. Even with his face semi-shielded by a beige cowboy hat, BA could see the man was aged, his tan skin weathered.

An air of arrogance, a domineering feel of self-importance, wafted around the man as he sauntered off the porch. Plucking a toothpick from his mouth and tossing it aside, he glanced around, obviously not catching sight of the two concealed men.

BA started to rise as the man leisurely strode away, but, feeling a warm hand settle on his shoulder, he paused.

"Why don't I follow our little _friend_ there?" Hannibal whispered. "And you can go check on Debra."

That was a good idea, because if BA followed the man…he wasn't sure if would be able to control himself. Still, rage seethed inside of him as he glared at the stranger.

"Do I have to make that an order?"

BA gave a gruff sigh, his attention shifting back toward the house. Instantly, he spotted Debra's frightened face peering out of a window. She looked so frail, so alone.

"Yeah, you follow…" BA let the sentence trail as he watched Debra disappear from the window. "I'll go check on her."

The distance between his hiding spot and the house fell away beneath BA's long strides. Hannibal was gone; he hadn't watched the man leave, but he knew that was the case.

He hurtled up onto the porch as the front door swung open.

Debra's dark, glossy eyes, teeming with unshed tears, peered up at him. Her chin wrinkled and her lower lip quivered.

"BA!" His name erupted from her in a breathy gasp as she catapulted herself forward, falling into his arms. "It was Blackburn, he wouldn't let me talk with you. He was in the house the whole time. He said he has Jason…t-that he'll let him go if I cooperate, but…but… I don't know, BA."

He held her, breathing in her familiar scent. _Lilacs_—she always smelled of lilacs. Some things never changed.

"I don't trust Blackburn." Her voice hitched, and she buried her face into BA's chest; he could feel a few hot tears soaking through his shirt. "I-I think he might hurt Jason no matter w-what."

BA gently put a hand on her back, her warmth flooding into his fingers; he could feel each shudder of her body as she quietly cried. _Jason…_ She was_ his_ now, and he was _hers_.

Still sniffling, she glanced up; her face a mess of tears and mascara. "Will you…will you rescue him, for me?"

He stiffened. The question hadn't been a surprise, but the pain it brought still struck him hard. He let his dream die; he let the last hope he clung to of being her man, of loving her and raising a family with her, fade away.

"Yeah," he answered softly, "of course."

* * *

><p>Following their new <em>'friend'<em> didn't turn out to be much of a challenge for Hannibal. Yeah, so the guy hopped in a truck at one point, but, since he was headed down a dirt road, Hannibal simply followed the tire tracks. Really, these guys had no flare at all.

Reaching the crest of a hill, Hannibal stopped and surveyed the scene below. Their friend was having a nice little chat with a couple of goons near the entrance of a mine, but what really drew Hannibal's attention were the hefty gold nuggets being loaded into the truck. _A working mine?_ Hannibal smiled; now that was something that might get a banker kidnapped. _But why?_

Filled with the Jazz, he gave a happy sigh. Maybe, he needed a closer look at that mine.

Hannibal waited until their 'friend' got back into his truck and drove away. Following the guy would be pointless; this seemed to be where the action was.

Luckily, the remaining goons decided it was time for a coffee break; they all flopped down around a campfire, sipping from dirty mugs. Seeing his opportunity, Hannibal slipped down the hill and maneuvered his way toward the mine; he was inside in no time.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, until, that is, he found the armored truck. Opening the back, he eyed the stacks of gold bars. Yep, that would be why they needed the banker—to get the gold discreetly back into the market. This had to be the armored truck that was heisted a couple months ago; no wonder the townspeople didn't want anyone asking about Jason Duke.

Hannibal quietly secured the back doors before strolling around to the driver's side. After opening the door and hoisting himself up, he grinned down at the gas gauge. How nice, someone had left the truck nearly full of gas. That was certainly going to be handy. And they left the keys behind too. Grinning, Hannibal shook his head; these had to be the worst crooks ever.

He started the engine and pressed down on the gas. Speed was going to be everything. Careening out of the mine, he plowed into the side of the lone Chevy Nova parked outside. The group of goons scattered, and a few shots were fired, but Hannibal hardly noticed; not much was going to get to him through all the armor.

Racing down the road, Hannibal chuckled to himself. In his side mirror, he could see the frantic men trying to start their destroyed car to give chase.

Hannibal pulled a cigar from his pocket, bit off the tip and pulled out a lighter. He held the tiny flame up to the cigar clench between his teeth. The first puff was always the best.

Cogs turning, Hannibal was already starting to form a plan. Judging by BA's story about how they landed in jail for merely asking about the Duke, it was pretty clear that the Sheriff was in on this mine operation, so, he'd be the perfect person to give a little message to. Hannibal would offer up the gold in exchange for Jason Duke, and he'd set the time and place. Of course, when it was time for the exchange, the team would be waiting, ready to get the jump on the bad guys. Afterward, the gold and criminals would be turned over to the proper authorities and Jason Duke would be returned to Debra. It was perfect!

Taking another puff off his cigar, Hannibal smiled. _This was going to be a piece of cake._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Murdock pulled at his binds as he watched the men swarm around Face. He could feel the already tender flesh of his wrists burn with pain, but it didn't matter. Slowly working the knot, he tried to slip his hands free. He could worry about the ropes holding him to the tree later. For now, he just needed his arms free.

He squirmed, the rough tree bark digging into him, uncomfortably pressing the concealed pistol into his lower back. A couple of rounds, that's all it would take to make them stop. He pulled harder, feeling a numbness tingle his fingertips.

In front of him, the skirmish grew still; the three men drawing away from Face. For a second, Murdock froze, his gaze set on Facey.

Obviously dazed from the struggle, Face frowned; brow furrowed, bewildered eyes frantically searching, the conman hesitantly tested his new restraints.

Murdock's lungs ached and he realized he had been holding his breath. He took in a slow, shallow breath, studying the ropes attached to Face.

"Don't worry," Rusty laughed. "It gets even better."

And then, yanked by the rope on his right wrist, Face hurtled upward. Surprised, Murdock gave a mute, choked gasp as he watched his friend painfully contort. The weighted bag tied to Face's left wrist, now fully suspended as well, was already making the conman's muscles quiver and his shoulders bulged in unnatural ways. Face dangled, spinning; his pain filled grimace repeatedly coming into view and then disappearing again.

Rusty and his men stood watching, laughing, their backs to Murdock.

Murdock blinked; the dull, blind instinct to protect his own coursed through him. Lost in the intensity of the emotion, he frantically punished his silent vocal cords, trying vainly to scream at the men—to make them stop. Panting for breath, he continued to strain to use his voice but was rewarded with only one low croak of sound that faded back into silence.

Forcing himself to calm, he slowed his breathing. Face wasn't spinning any longer; he merely swayed slightly. Murdock shifted, starting to work his wrists free again. It was then that Face's gaze met his.

_Don't worry Facey; I'm gonna get us out of this. I just need one more minute._ Murdock kept wiggling, trying to free himself, hoping that the mental message got across to his friend.

"So…um…now what?" Face asked. "I just hang here like this?"

Murdock couldn't help himself; he smiled. There was something so delightfully reassuring about hearing that witty, sardonic tone. It meant Faceman knew; it meant…he had read his mind, again!

The knot wasn't giving, but, as his wrist started to bleed, Murdock could feel his hands almost slipping free. He kept trying as Rusty chuckled, ambled over to his truck and retrieved something. The man hummed; the deep uneven notes vibrating from his chest as he strolled back toward Face.

"Now, we use this," he said, holding up a five iron, "on our human piñata."

And that's when Murdock's hands finally slipped free.

* * *

><p>Hannibal wasn't in the mood for games. Face and Murdock were still M.I.A. and pulling BA away from Debra's house had turned into a more of a headache than he cared to admit. Standing in front of the Sheriff's desk, the Colonel leaned forward, gloved hands resting on the polished wood.<p>

"_I said_…" Hannibal growled. "I've got something you want, and I believe we both know what I'm talking about, so don't play stupid with me."

The Sheriff frowned. "Yeah, I know what you're talking about. So…" He leaned back in his chair; a faint creak sounding. "Why don't I just arrest you and get it back?"

"Because..." Hannibal smiled, standing straight. "I don't work alone. If you ever want to see your gold again, you'll bring Jason Duke to the old, abandoned barn on the hill on Sutter Road at nine o' clock tonight. Tell that to your boss."

Eyes locked, the two men remained still. Running on Jazz, Hannibal let the moment draw out; he could handle whatever this cow-tipping, Podunk-town Sheriff could toss at him.

"Fine." The word was forced through gritted teeth, as the Sheriff sat up. "Now you better get outta here before I change my mind."

Hannibal smiled, basking in the frustration this caused the crooked lawman. "I'll be seeing you." He backed toward the door; there was no way he was turning his back to this guy.

"Not if I see you first…"

Slipping out the door, Hannibal quickly hopped into the waiting van.

BA didn't bombard him with questions; he simply drove. Hannibal sighed. It looked like they were heading back to Debra's. Well, that would be fine. After all, that's where Murdock and Face would, eventually, show up...he hoped.

* * *

><p>Murdock squirmed, reaching for the pistol. Rusty had circled Face once then paused, his stance wide, club held high; he smiled as he adjusted his grip.<p>

Pistol finally in hand, the Captain maneuvered his arm free just as Rusty started to launch his first strike with the iron. Adrenaline pumping, Murdock hastily aimed and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, echoed by Rusty's cry of pain, and the iron fell to the ground.

But, there wasn't time to think. Murdock carefully aimed at the rope holding Facey up. Ok, if Hannibal could shoot him loose from a moving vehicle, then…

He pulled the trigger.

_Click._

Jeff and Roger were thundering toward Murdock, faces flushed with rage.

Still aiming at the rope, he tried the trigger again.

_Click...Click...Click._

He glanced up at Face. They both knew this wasn't going to end well. Facey didn't have to be a mind reader to know that. Jeff and Roger were almost to him. Murdock's hand went limp, and the pistol fell away. Sure, he had probably grabbed the only partially loaded weapon in the whole van. Why hadn't he checked the ammo earlier?

Murdock slumped, still held by the mass of rope securing him to the tree trunk. There was no way he could slip free in time.

Behind the two Neanderthals charging at him, he could see Rusty; the man stood, hand resting on his upper thigh, a small trickle of blood seeping through his fingers. The bullet must have only grazed him. Rusty glared up at him; his cold, murderous stare doggedly steady.

Murdock closed his eyes. He could hear twigs snapping as the two men crashed forward and then there was pain.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Murdock wasn't sure who had struck him first, but it really didn't matter. Punched in the face, his head snapped back—striking the tree. A shock of hurt flared through the back of his skull. Then, pain shot through his stomach as another fist found him. He opened his eyes, ready to fend off as much of the attack as possible.

Still dangling, Face was screaming at them to stop, but his voice was strained, filled with his own pain.

Raising an arm to shield his face, Murdock drew in a shaky breath. They hadn't done much damage yet; if he could get loose, he still had a fighting chance.

"STOP!"

The men halted their attack, turning to stare dumbly at their boss.

Rusty stood not far off, his dark gaze fixed on Murdock, a menacing smile adorning his face. Slowly, he hobbled forward, motioning for his men to move back. Compliantly, they did so. Jeff retreated to the truck, while Roger chose a spot near Face.

"You…" The smile still hadn't faded but had morphed so that his teeth were bared in an almost mocking snarl. "…shot me."

Murdock swallowed hard, his swollen throat barely able to complete the task. Wet warmth coated his upper lip and chin as his broken nose throbbed. The bitter, metallic taste of blood hung in his mouth.

Rusty stepped closer, his exhaled breath tickling Murdock's face. The Captain didn't flinch. He didn't move; he just stared at the man, waiting.

"I think I deserve an apology."

Murdock shrugged. Yeah, even if he had a voice, that wasn't going to happen.

"We're not going to do this the easy way, are we?" Rusty asked, slowly drawing out each word. "Roger, maybe he needs some encouragement."

Murdock's attention sped over to Facey just as Roger swung the five iron, landing a solid blow to Face's ribs. The conman gave a brief, clipped yelp before he bit down on his lip, holding in any more cries of agony.

"Now," Rusty grinned, "do I get my apology?"

Stomach turning, Murdock fought back the urge to be sick. He had to do something; he couldn't let them keep hurting Face.

Roger lifted the club again, his glossy eyes set on his victim. Quickly, the Captain let out a low huff of breath, trying his best to form even a single word. It felt as if scalding water was trickling down his throat, but he wouldn't give in. Each breath came a little slower, with a little more of a struggle.

It was Rusty's raucous laughter that finally made Murdock stop.

"What was that?" He asked, eyes glistening with joy, eyebrows lifted. "That was pitiful."

"H-he can't…" Face gasped. "…talk."

Rusty's gaze was shifting from Face to Murdock as the sound of static came from the the truck. Rusty seemed unconcerned with the interruption though as he grinned over at Murdock. Jeff dutifully reached into the truck, pulling out a radio. Whatever was being said was too quiet for Murdock to hear.

Rusty leaned to the side, worked up a loogie and spit. "I think you can do better than that for an apology. Try again."

"You can't keep making him…" Face couldn't finish as Roger gave him another 'tap' with the five iron.

Closing his eyes, Murdock gave out another silent string of huffed air. His mouth and throat felt void of moisture; each breath became sandpaper fluttering down his windpipes. He wanted to stop—he _needed _to stop, but he didn't.

He started to get lightheaded. All he could hear was Rusty's deep laughter. Opening his eyes, everything blurred, but he kept trying to force out sound. Suddenly, Rusty went silent.

Murdock slumped in his ropes, drained. Slowly, he glanced up. Rusty had moved back toward the truck and was deep into a heated conversation with Jeff.

"What the hell do you mean?" Rusty snapped.

Jeff hesitated, his head lowered, eyes carefully focused on his boss. "The guys at the mine said someone took the truck…they got the gold."

Rusty shifted his weight off his injured leg. "Did they see who it was?"

"A little…they said something about an older guy with white hair."

_Hannibal_ _had the gold?_ Murdock blinked; that could definitely work to their advantage.

"And…" Jeff paused. "…he's already visited the Sheriff. Somehow, he knows we got the law enforcement in our back pocket. He said he wants to do a trade—Jason Duke for the gold."

Murdock shrugged. If Hannibal was asking for the Duke, then he probably wasn't aware of the fact that Face and he had been captured. That meant that the cavalry wasn't on the way—yet.

"Well, we can't give them Jason Duke, since he's not done with the paperwork," Rusty replied, "but I imagine this white-haired fellow will be happy to get his boys here back. I seen them all together earlier. They're in cahoots." He limped over to the driver's side door and opened it, pausing a moment to whisper something to Jeff; a keen smile set across the henchman's face as he listened.

As Rusty slid into the truck, Jeff hurried over to Roger, quietly passed along the message from their boss, and then headed toward Murdock. So focused on Jeff, Murdock almost hadn't noticed Roger cutting away the rope holding Face up.

The rope snapped sending Faceman crashing to the ground with a sickening _thud_. He groaned, rolled into a fetal position, and held his ribs with his right arm. Shoulder dislocated, his left arm lay useless.

Murdock watched helplessly as Roger cut the weighted rope off Face's left arm and dragged the man to his feet. Stumbling along, Face was forced into the bed of the truck.

Startled by rough hands working over him, Murdock glanced up at Jeff. The man cut away the remaining ropes holding Murdock and quickly grabbed the pilot's hands, snapping a pair of cuffs around his wrists; they were too tight, but it wasn't like he could complain.

He didn't struggle as Jeff pulled him toward the truck, and he was relieved when they put him in the back with Facey. The problem was that both Jeff and Roger sat in the back as well.

Faceman's good right wrist was cuffed to a rail on the truck. Plus, Roger had retrieved his rifle and had it aimed at the conman's head.

Murdock was forced to sit at the rear of the truck, as far from Face as was possible. Unlike Facey, he wasn't secured directly to the truck, but he wouldn't try anything; he was sure they'd kill Face if he did.

Their bumpy ride was quiet; Murdock almost would've considered it serene if the circumstances had been different. Pain swelled in his throat. Breathing was getting more difficult. As he focused on taking in a slow, deep lungful of air, he glanced over and found Face's blue eyes scanning him nervously.

_I'm ok. It's nothing, really. _Murdock sent the mental note along, but Face didn't seem convinced.

They came to a bridge; the truck lurching over the old wooden planks. Murdock noted the lack of side rails as he stared down at the swirling, green waters below.

Then, the truck stopped, and Jeff jumped out, hauling Murdock with him.

Barely staying upright, the Captain glanced back at Face; he was yelling, but why? Cold metal brushed against the Captain's hand, and, hearing the sounds of chains, he looked back at Jeff just as he was snapping a padlock closed. Murdock stared, almost not understanding what he saw.

An oversized cinderblock lay on the wooden planks in front of him, with a chain attaching it to his cuffs. Only a few feet stood between him and the edge; he tried to back away, but Jeff held him firm.

In the background, Face was still yelling, but, to Murdock, his voice had become muffled, distant.

"Yeah…" Jeff's gruff tone was barely a whisper, but it was all Murdock could hear. "…Rusty says we don't really need both of you for the trade...too bad for you."

Murdock sucked in a shallow breath, trying to prepare his lungs for more torture. Then, Jeff thrust him forward over the edge, the cinderblock dragging after him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Twelve**

"No, Murdock….Run!" Face's words ended in a gasp; a shock of pain snaked through his arm as he jostled the injured limb, but he couldn't give up.

Weakly, he tried to reach for Roger's gun, but the man was quick and, with his dislocated shoulder, Face was at an obvious disadvantage. He panted, pulling at the handcuffs holding him to the truck. It would take too long to pick them, and he doubted Roger would just sit there quietly and let him do so. He glanced back over at Murdock. The Captain blinked down at the swirling water, his face conveying a mixture of bewilderment and exhaustion.

"Murdock!" Face was frantic now; no matter how hard he yelled, he couldn't seem to draw the dazed man's attention.

Jeff bent down, scooped up the chain looping around the cinderblock and weaved it through Murdock's cuffs before he snapped the ends together with a padlock. The pilot finally seemed to comprehend the scene that was unfolding; he tried to squirm back, away from the bridge's edge, but Jeff held him in place. The thug whispered something and the Captain's eyes widened. Then, with one quick shove, Murdock was gone.

Face screamed; the visceral cries of panic were uncontrollably hysterical. Face wasn't even aware of what he was saying any longer; the words just kept streaming out of him. At some point, he had heard the splash, even over the intensity of his own voice. Fueled by the urgency to help his friend, he grew louder, more insistent. He probably would've continued if a sharp rap to the head from Roger hadn't shut him up.

Blood trickling down his scalp, Face sat up, peering out over the river as the truck started to move again. Jeff hauled himself into the cab, his hyped up voice mingling with Rusty's. Face frowned as the two men chatted and laughed; he kept his eyes on the green water for as long as he could, but Murdock was nowhere to be seen.

As the river disappeared from sight, Face slumped, hot tears running down his cheeks. Closing his eyes, he turned his head away from Roger as he heard the man's deep chuckle. Maybe their luck had finally run out.

* * *

><p>Thirty feet, it was mere seconds of falling but the normal logic of time didn't seem to apply in the vacuum of Murdock's fear. A torrent of emotions engulfed the Captain, anger, fear, hope, and finally despair. Memories of his last fall, the short drop halted by the noose, filled his frantic mind.<p>

With his training kicking in, Murdock swept away his emotions, stopped flailing and straightened his body, his feet positioned to strike the water first. He tried to ignore the flutter of dread in his stomach brought on by the intensity of a rapid descent. He felt as if he'd been falling forever, as if it would never end.

He hit the surface hard, the icy water sending a shockwave through his body. He had plunged far into the river and the swift current caught him, pulling him downstream, but he didn't fight it; that would have been a mistake. Weighted by the cinderblock, he quickly hit bottom, his sneakers sinking into the rounded pebbles and silt.

Taking the cinderblock in hand, he slowly started to trudge along the bottom of the river. Above, through the murky green waters, he could see light shimmering across the river's surface. A dim pain had already settled into his lungs; he needed air, but trying to swim up would only drain his strength. One foot after the other, he followed the current, gradually working his way closer to the river's edge. It was a daunting process, one that time was not kind to. Little by little, he started to release the breath he held; the tiny bubbles quickly floating upward, dancing across his vision.

Strength waning, he knew he couldn't go on much longer. Digging into the last of his reserves, he forced himself up the soft, steep incline, and his head finally broke through the surface.

Eager for breath, he sucked in a slurry of air and water, the mixture filling his lungs, sending him into a convulsion of wet, huffed coughs. With each rough bark of air tearing through him, Murdock could feel his tender throat constrict a little more. Finally holding the coughs at bay, he drew in a slow, shallow breath.

Inching forward, he slowly emerged from the river. No longer buoyed by the current and carrying the added weight of the cinderblock and his waterlogged clothes, Murdock felt his body shudder as he staggered up onto dry land; his muscles began to falter.

He glanced back at the bridge, but the river had carried him a far distance; almost lost around a bend, the structure was barely visible. Still, he could see that the truck was gone.

Stumbling across the rocky ground, the pilot lost his grip on the cinderblock; it landed with a dull _thud_ on the rocky shore. Murdock stared down, unsure what to do. He hadn't the strength to pick it up again. He gave the chain a weak tug, but that accomplished nothing; he wasn't even sure why he had tried such a lame tactic.

Closing his eyes, he tried to take in some warmth from the sun, but evening was coming and the day's heat was fading. His teeth chattered and he began to violently shiver. Comprised of glacial waters mixed with snow melt, mountainous rivers were not meant for swimmers. Murdock opened his eyes; as his body tried to warm itself, he could feel his energy draining.

He tried to take a step, his muddled mind already forgetting the weight chained to him. Reaching the end of his tether, his knees buckled, bringing him down hard onto the rocks. He lay, pain racing through his body, but there was warmth. Holding their heat gathered from the sun, the pebbles and stones beneath him granted him a small comfort. Closing his eyes, he gave in to his need for rest.

_Facey, I'm ok. Just gonna close my peepers for a minute…then I'll get back up and…and I'll rescue you. Everything is gonna be fine…_ Murdock shivered, his mind too hazy to continue his message as he slowly drifted off into a blissful state of unconsciousness.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

The last detonator was finally set up; without Face or Murdock around, BA found himself scrambling to finish the work Hannibal's plan required. The Sergeant's frustration with his AWOL comrades had long since subsided though, melting into worry. Where were they? Yeah, Face might've run off with the fool for a few hours to cheer the crazy man up, but, without making any form of contact, he would _never_ have stayed away this long. It was a subject that BA and Hannibal had not yet dealt with, but was obviously weighing heavily on each of them.

Surveying the area below the slopping hill he had stationed himself on, BA stared down at the weathered barn standing in the hay field. Blackburn's men would be there soon; it was almost time for the exchange. Bats had already begun their evening hunt; their dark bodies were fluttering smudges against the fading blue sky.

Near the barn, Hannibal stood, a semiautomatic weapon draped over his shoulder. The large, sagging, wooden doors to the aged structure were open, displaying the white catering van inside, though BA had doctored it up to look like the armored vehicle. Hannibal wasn't stupid. They weren't about to bring the gold to this shady deal.

BA shifted, his gaze focused on his commander. Hannibal had obviously fully expected Face and Murdock to return, and when they hadn't, the Colonel had quickly stripped his plan down to a skeleton of what it had been. This wasn't going to be easy to pull off with half the team missing, but they couldn't call it off now. Debra needed _them_. BA shrugged. No, that wasn't right; what she needed was _Jason_ back.

In the distance, the low rumble of a truck engine sounded. They were coming.

BA squatted, hiding his large body from sight as best he could. He chose his position carefully; it wasn't too obvious but still had a good visual on the area below. With any luck, they would scoop up the Duke and make a quick escape before Blackburn's men knew what was happening. Then, they would track down Face and Murdock.

The truck came into view, slowly weaving its way toward the barn. BA studied it carefully. Two people were in the cab, two in the back. His eyes settled on one of the figures in the truck bed. The person's hands were bound behind their back and a burlap sack had been placed over their head. BA frowned; something wasn't right. Jason was a pretty big fella and this person wasn't. Was it a trap? He felt his scalp tingle at the thought, but he had no way to warn Hannibal.

Hands hovering over the first detonator, BA nervously watched the truck come to a halt. If things went south, he'd make sure the Colonel had the distraction he needed for a clean getaway.

* * *

><p>Hannibal kept a pleasant smile on his face as the men piled out of their truck. The prisoner, presumably the Duke, was hauled rather roughly down from the truck bed. Hitting the ground, the man stumbled awkwardly, vision impaired by the bag over his head.<p>

One of Blackburn's men, the blond guy who had been driving, was wounded; he limped forward, a strip of blood-soaked gauze tied around his thigh.

Making a quick assessment of the situation, Hannibal gave a low sigh. Something wasn't right. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Whoever the men held right now, it wasn't Jason Duke, and Hannibal had a pretty good guess as to who it was.

"So…" Hannibal kept his gaze on the man with the limp. "Where's my other man?"

The short, blond man stared a moment, the smirk that had adorned his face faltered. He obviously didn't like being robbed of unveiling his little surprise. Regaining his composure, he grinned.

"You mean the quiet one? We put him…_somewhere_."

The man's tone chilled Hannibal. If they had done anything to his Captain, these guys were going to pay. Through with being cordial, the Colonel shifted his gun, reminding the thugs that he was still a danger to them.

"Where's the Duke?" He knew there wasn't a chance of getting Jason back at the moment, but he needed a few seconds to plot out his next move.

"Not here," the blond grunted. "We get the gold and you get your man; that's how this is gonna play out."

One of the men shoved Face forward; he stumbled into Hannibal's outstretched arms. Quickly, the Colonel removed the burlap sack and stared into the dull, listless eyes of his Lieutenant. It wasn't fear Hannibal saw but pure, overwhelming grief.

There wasn't time to console his man though, as an explosion rocked the edge of the field. Hannibal took Face by the shoulder but had to release him suddenly as he gave a weak yelp of pain. Without hesitation, the Colonel latched onto Face's other shoulder and guided him back to the van. They had to move quickly, while Blackburn's men were distracted.

After hauling Face into the vehicle, Hannibal hurried into the driver's seat and started to speed off. Halfway across the open expanse, he could hear the truck roaring after them, but another explosion, courtesy of BA, quickly halted the pursuit.

"Face, where's Murdock?" Hannibal had to yell over the continuing blasts, but, judging from the deep frown settling across the Lieutenant's face, he had been heard.

Shaking his head, Face stared down as his feet. Hannibal studied him a moment, taking in the bruises, hunched shoulders and pale tint to his skin. He was in shock, that much was clear, but Hannibal had to know exactly what went down. He hated to press for answers from his wounded man, but it had to be done.

"What happened to Murdock?"

Face looked up, confusion and heartache mingling in his clear blue eyes. "I-I don't know…" He swallowed and gave a sad, forced little laugh. "Sorry, I'm a mess. Everything was just so…I-I don't know."

Hannibal focused on the road ahead; he had to backtrack, weave around and pick up BA. "What happened?" His voice was gruffer, more commanding, but he couldn't help himself, not with a man potentially in danger.

Face gave a weary sigh. "They chained him to a weight…" He paused, drawing in a ragged breath. "…and threw him in the river…" Again, silence, as if he didn't want to force the next words out. "I-I never saw him come up."

Hannibal's response was simple, he kept his voice soft, comforting. "Face," he waited for the Lieutenant to look up. "We're going to pick up BA and then you are going to show up where you saw Murdock last. We _will _find him."

Face nodded, but was obviously still unconvinced that his friend was alive.

"Hey," Hannibal said, trying to reassure himself as well as Face, "remember, if we don't see a body…"

"…then he's still alive." Face finished the statement but in a miserably hushed tone.

Hannibal wanted to say more, he wanted to comfort his man, but instead he let silence take over. His thoughts drifted to the currents of a swollen river—to where his Captain might be. He didn't pray very often, but, at the moment, he was praying for all he was worth.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

BA shifted over the rocky shore, stones uprooted in his wake, but there was no sign of the fool. Dread knotted in his stomach, steadily growing with each passing minute.

Across the river, the beam from Hannibal's flashlight scanned water and land, never ceasing during its frantic search. They all knew that they should have found him by now—if he was still alive.

It was late, nearly two o' clock in the morning, but no one wanted to give up; that would have meant admitting the unthinkable.

BA glanced back, staring sadly up at the catering van parked on the bridge. Even through the darkness, he could see Face; the man sat stiffly in the passenger's seat, eyes trained on his teammates below.

Only a direct order from Hannibal had forced Faceman to wait in the van while they continued the searched for Murdock. With broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder—which Hannibal had had the honor of resetting—and various swollen bruises coloring his body, Face was in no shape to go traipsing around in the dark. Still, BA could understand the man's reluctance to remain behind. Murdock was one of them and it hurt real bad to have him missing.

"Fool better be alright…" BA muttered, returning to his search, but the words were hollow and even the Sergeant could hear the pain in his own tone.

Slowly continuing around the bend in the river, BA kept his eyes down, searching desperately for any trace of the crazy man. It didn't matter what it took, they _needed _to find him. In a silent prayer, BA promised that he would listen to any amount of jibber-jabber fool talk; he'd even play fetch with that stupid imaginary dog just as long as the crazy man was safe.

"Murdock? Are you out there? Murdock?" Hannibal's voice carried across the dark waters, echoing through the woods, but he was met with only silence.

BA remained quiet, no longer trusting his own voice. He felt lost. This problem couldn't be solved using his usual methods; he couldn't simply launch a fist at it.

_The fool couldn't really be gone, could he?_ Disbelief and hope were giving way to grief; he could feel it, but he fought it as well. They had been through so much together; this couldn't be the end. He wouldn't give up until…

Distracted by his thoughts, BA stumbled; his gold chains rattling as he barely caught his balance. He glanced back, turning his flashlight on the object that had nearly taken him down.

For a moment, he studied the chunks of broken cinderblock littering the ground, his brain unable to process what this new discovery meant. Then, the happy realization filled him.

_The fool must have made it out of the river—he was alive!_

A deep chuckled vibrated in his chest. He turned, ready to shout out to Hannibal, but…

He paused, smile fading. Judging by the mess of footprints littering the ground, it had taken Murdock quite a while to smash the cinderblock apart on the rocks. The freshest prints led up the sandy slope toward the grassy hills running alongside the river; he would be harder to track there. Still, the direction the fool had taken indicated he was heading back toward the bridge, but, if that was the case, why hadn't they found him already?

Frustration returning, BA frowned as he stared out into the dark night. "Fool, where'd you go?" He whispered, taking a moment to regain his composure before calling out to Hannibal.

* * *

><p>Unable to discern fractured dream from bone-weary reality, Murdock stumbled on. He rubbed his eyes, trying to drive the dullness from his mind. How long had he been walking? He couldn't remember. He took another heavy step, gravity pulling harder.<p>

All around him shadows moved and melted, trees swayed and danced, but, as he focused on each, the Captain found everything became eerily still. Focusing on his breathing, he remained calm. From past experience, he knew getting agitated would only make the ordeal worse.

Each sluggish, tired blink lasted longer than the one before; the threat of exhaustion hovered, ready to send him toppling to the pavement. He could barely recall why he was trying so hard to continue forward. The cold had numbed some of his pain, but it also weighed his limbs down—as if his sodden clothes and chained wrists weren't bad enough.

Vision blurring, Murdock knew he had pushed himself too far. His body needed rest. Maneuvering himself to road's shoulder, he tried to keep pressing forward, but found the effort futile.

All at once, his muscles gave out and he crumpled to the ground.

The impact from the fall hadn't hurt; he was beyond feeling such minor pains. Shivering on the ground, he listened to the hungry gurgle of his stomach. What he wouldn't have given for a peanut butter, banana and pumpernickel sandwich.

He closed his eyes, ready to give in, but the image of Face, bound and in pain, surfaced in his mind. He had to keep going; that was why he couldn't stop.

_Faceman, I'm coming…_

But the sentiment in the thought was not shared by his fatigued muscles. Just like a switch had been flipped, there was a disconnect between his brain and his body. All commands he sent out were ignored; arms and legs refused to move.

He continued with the weary battle until his mental abilities also began to cave in to exhaustion. Somewhere off in the night an owl screeched.

Murdock gave a sad smile, Shakespeare's words, delivered by Lady Macbeth, floated in his hazy mind. _'It is the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman which gives the stern'st good-night.'_

Lost in jumbled thought, he hadn't heard the car until it was nearly upon him. The soft crunch of gravel under tires ended with the gentlest squeak of brakes. Murdock blinked, unable to open his eyes fully in the sudden glare of headlights. He held his breath, listening to the car door open followed by slow footsteps.

Strength gone, all Murdock could do was tilt his head slightly, staring up at the dark figure looming over him. He could feel his brain shutting down, eyelids drooping, but he had to know. Who had found him? No matter how had he tried, how much he squinted, the answer eluded him.

The person crouched, leaning closer and muttered something that Murdock couldn't quite catch. Eyes fluttering shut, the Captain gave one last long, low, painful sigh.

Drifting off into the dark world the unconscious once again, Murdock sent out one final mental message. _I'm sorry Facey…I'm so sorry..._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Drifting in the hazy world between slumber and wakefulness, Murdock listened to the steady, comforting rhythm of his own breathing. He wasn't even about to attempt to open his eyes; the allure of more rest was just too much.

His cold, damp clothes were gone, replaced with the warm folds of blankets. Vaguely, he puzzled over this, but the comfort outweighed the mystery; soon, he relaxed.

Gentle hands worked on his right wrist, dabbing something cool on the swollen, raw flesh. Murdock lay still, all his effort going into merely staying semi-conscious. The cuffs and chain were gone and for that he was immensely grateful.

"It's going to be alright…" The voice was low, soothing but entirely unfamiliar.

Murdock wanted to respond, but his body refused. Gradually, he sunk back into a restful sleep.

* * *

><p>A heavy silence hung over the men as they rode back to Debra's place. They all knew she wouldn't be there; BA, fearful that Blackburn might mount another abduction, had sent her off to hide in a cabin in the foothills. Visiting her empty house was simply the team's last reasonable method of locating their wayward pilot; maybe he had somehow found his way back there, but that was a long shot.<p>

Face frowned as his head slumped against the passenger's seat. Hannibal had offered him aspirins, but whatever pills had been handed over were far more potent than that. Even if it was for his own good, Face didn't like to be conned.

A comfortable warmth settled over him as the medicine did its work; eyes closing, he fought off sleep, guilt nagging him as he basked in the bliss of numbed pained. How could he even think about rest when Murdock was still out there somewhere?

"Hey…" From the back of the van, Hannibal's soft voice cut through the hum of travel.

Sluggishly, Face glanced up, instinctively reaching for the cigar in his jacket pocket, but he halted as he heard the older man's gentle chuckle.

"No, that's ok, Face…just rest." Smile replaced by tight, drawn lips, Hannibal's gaze grew hard, determined. "We will find him, kid; I promise you that."

Face nodded weakly before dropping his head back down. It was silly; it made him feel like a child, but the Colonel's simple words had rekindled his hope. After all, Hannibal would never break a promise to one of his men.

* * *

><p>Debra busied herself with menial tasks around the cabin. She set her mind on the work at hand, trying not to dwell on the crushing loneliness that had been plaguing her since BA had left. She hadn't slept well while waiting for him to return with his friends and, in the early light of morning, she found herself continuously watching the door.<p>

_Had they found Murdock?_ Thinking of the lost man, she frowned. Though their meeting had been brief, she had rather liked him. His quirky, amusingly childlike nature was a nice balance to BA's quiet, gruff demeanor. Bosco would've never admitted it, but she could tell right away that his friendship with the goofy pilot meant a lot to him. Wasn't that just like BA though? As long as someone had a good heart, BA would look past any number of imperfections. She had always loved that about him.

She paused in her cleaning, tears welling in her eyes, blurring her vision. Had she made a mistake contacting BA? If she been patient and had continued to wait maybe no one would have gotten hurt. Maybe Blackburn's men would have just let Jason go when they were done with him. But, could she have really taken that chance?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, loud knock at the front door. Startled, she jumped back, edging to the far side of the room. Behind her was an open window with the team's GMC van parked right outside; they had kept it close enough that she could hear the vehicle's phone ringing, in case Murdock tried contacting them. If she needed to, she could take the van to make a quick getaway, but that all depended on who was at the door.

Gathering her courage, she quietly stepped forward, straining to hear any sound that might hint as to who was outside.

"B-BA?" She cringed at the sound of her own voice, wishing she had remained quiet; now, whoever was out there would know for sure that she was inside.

She was almost to the door when the person outside began pounding on it. Jumping back, she shrieked as hands grabbed her. Flailing and screaming, she tried to get free, but finally, weary from her effort, she went limp.

Timidly, she looked up at the man holding her.

"Is that any way to welcome guests into your home?" Rusty asked, squeezing her shoulders a litter harder than necessary. "But this isn't your home, is it? Still, it was nice of you to leave that window open for me"

He hauled her over to the door and unlocked it, letting his men inside.

"It's just like you said boss," the plumper of the two men said, staring warily at Debra. "How'd you know they'd be here?"

Rusty forced out a dry laugh. "Who else would rent Chadhill's dump of a cabin in the off-season? There's no reason for anyone to be up here unless they are looking to disappear for a while." Ending his explanation, he shoved Debra forward, into his henchman's arms.

"What you want me to do with her? Take her out back and…"

"No." Rusty's response was quick, but lacked any passion. "Just take her to the Sheriff's little hideaway. If he doesn't want us dealing with people our way, then he can take care of them himself." A wry little smile spread across his face. "I'm sure he's getting tired of his _houseguest_ by now."

Debra struggled a little more as the large man started to drag her outside.

"Quit with the fighting, darling…" he huffed. "You're gonna get to see your man soon enough, so, just be good."

"J-Jason?" The whispered name was out of her mouth before she realized it. Quieting down, he let the man start to lead her outside.

"Jeff," Rusty's attention was fully on the other man in the room, and Debra slowed her pace to hear what he had to say. "Call the others in and get ready to rig this place up. They won't be expecting us at all. There is no way any of them are going to get away this time. We will get that gold back."

A shiver ran through Debra as she stepped outside. She was getting her husband back, but at what cost?

* * *

><p>Murdock opened his eyes, squinting in the dim evening light. How long had he been out? Slowly, he sat up. He was still sore and stiff, but sleep had done him wonders as had the warmth of a bed. Gingerly, he studied his bandaged wrists before noticing that he was again dressed in his own clothes; the gentle aroma of laundry detergent still wafting off of them.<p>

This all felt very much like Face's work. Glancing around, Murdock quickly noted the bars welded across the windows. Yeah, that was less like Face's style.

"I'm glad to see you're finally up. I was worried."

Following the sound of the voice, Murdock stared over at the man sitting in the far corner. He was tall, so he hunched awkwardly on the tiny rocking chair but somehow he seemed comfortable. There was a kindness to his white, toothy smile which instantly made Murdock relax.

"They said you were looking for me?"

Forcing a small grin, Murdock nodded. This definitely was the man in the pictures in Debra's house. This was Jason Duke.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

After tossing back the blankets, Murdock swung his bare feet down to the wooden floor. Socks! His kingdom for socks! And shoes? He frowned, searching the ground. Really, where had they gone? The room wasn't that big; they couldn't have gotten far, could they?

"Maybe you should lie still for a while." Jason stood, poured a glass of water and brought it across the room. "It looks like you've been through a lot."

Continuing his search, Murdock shook his head. Facey could still be in danger and the guys had to know that he had located Jason and…

He paused. Had he located Jason? Did it count if he didn't have a clue as to where they were? Yeah, probably not.

"Here," Jason said, holding the glass out for Murdock to take, "drink this."

Suddenly realizing how thirsty he was, Murdock carefully took the offered glass. He could only manage small sips, but the cool liquid felt so good trickling down his ravaged throat. Finally, finishing off the water, he handed the glass back and carefully mouthed the words '_thank you_.'

A flash of embarrassment spread across Jason's face; he must not have realized until that moment that Murdock was voiceless. He seemed to recover from the shock quickly though as his warm smile returned.

Still, an awkward moment of silence ensued. Murdock could tell that Jason was carefully choosing his next words, obviously hesitant to address the issue of the muteness.

"The Sheriff brought you here late last night." Setting the glass aside, Jason lightly sat on the edge of the bed. "He said he found you on the side of the road, but I suspect he knows more about what happened to you than he let on." Jason paused, studying Murdock carefully. "You've gotten tangled up with Blackburn somehow?"

Murdock nodded, appreciating that Jason knew to keep his questions simple. It really was too bad that Facey wasn't around to translate for them.

"Blackburn's men did all that to you?"

Again, Murdock nodded. He didn't have to look up to know that Jason's gaze was settled on his neck. If the bruising was even half as bad as the pain then it probably looked pretty nasty.

"How did you know that I was…"

Murdock held up a hand, halting Jason's question. He really didn't mean to be rude, but he _needed_ his socks and shoes. After pointing down at his bare feet, Murdock raised both hands so that they were palms up and gave the classic '_where_' shrug.

After a split second of confusion, Jason grinned. "Your shoes and socks? They're in the corner, hanging by the radiator with your jacket. I managed to get the Sheriff to wash your other clothes, but I forgot about the socks. They might still be a bit damp."

Murdock slid off the bed, testing his strength before daring to take a step. He wobbled a little but remained upright. In his peripheral vision, he could see Jason nervously watching, ready to lend a hand if needed.

As he made his way across the room, Murdock smiled to himself. He could see why Debra liked Jason; the man was a combination of Face and BA. He had the charm and caring nature of Face and the gentle protectiveness of BA. Still, Murdock felt a pang of grief for the ugly mudsucker; this heartache wasn't going to be easy for the big guy to get over.

Ungracefully squatting next to the radiator, Murdock plucked his socks off the window ledge; they were still damp, but, since they were at least warm, he didn't mind. He slid them on before snatching up his sneakers. After tying up the laces, he glanced up at his jacket hanging from a hook in the wall; he reached up and felt the water-logged material. That wasn't good.

"It's going to take a lot more time for that one to dry out."

Murdock sadly nodded. This mission was going to be hard enough to pull off and now he had to go on without his trusted jacket? Life just wasn't fair.

"What exactly are you planning on…"

Whatever Jason was about to ask was cut off as the door to the room swung open. A rather meek looking Debra stepped in; her sullen face suddenly breaking into a contorted mess of grief and joy as she spotted her husband.

"Jason!" The small woman practically launched herself across the room; Jason barely had time to put out his arms to catch her.

Still hunched down on the floor, Murdock felt his heart start to race as he watched the next two people enter the room.

"What is he doing here!" Flecks of spittle flew from Roger's mouth as the words poured out of him.

The Sheriff stood quietly beside Roger, regarding the man's outburst for a moment before speaking. "You're surprised to see him?"

Roger glared across the room. "He should be dead. We've darn near killed him twice over." A grin slowly crept across the man's face. "Maybe I'll just take him off your hands for you."

Murdock couldn't stop the shudder that ran through his body. There was no way he could survive, not again. He didn't even want to imagine what they'd do to him on this third attempt.

"You can't let him go!" Jason stepped forward, Debra still tightly held in his arms. "They'll kill him!"

"Hey," Roger growled. "If you want your little lady to stay safe, you'd better keep your trap shut."

Lowering his gaze, Murdock stared at the trembling dusty bunnies on the floor in front of him. He didn't want to give up, but how much longer would his luck hold out? As the floorboards creaked under Roger's shifting weight, Murdock flinched.

"I'm afraid…" The Sheriff's voice was quiet yet stern. "…that he's staying here."

Surprised, Murdock looked up. Had he heard the man right?

"What did you say?" Roger's face flushed a deep red, veins popping in his forehead. "You can't do that."

"I can," the Sheriff answered stiffly. "Our deal was that I scare away anyone asking about Jason Duke. Maybe there'd be some minor injuries here and there, but no one was supposed to be killed. Blackburn never said anything about that. Now, we can do this my way or the deal is off."

The tension in the room was thick as the two men stared at each other. Neither seemed willing to back down.

Finally, Roger edged away. "Fine, but Blackburn isn't going to like this."

"Well," the Sheriff sighed. "You just let me worry about Blackburn."

Both men turned, heading for the door. Only the Sheriff paused to give a brief glance back; his sad eyes settling on Murdock. Then the men were gone.

Murdock slumped back against the wall, nearly brushing up against the radiator. The thought of adding accidental burns to his list of injuries almost made him laugh. At this point though, anything might bring on a manic slew of laughter—that was, if he could laugh.

A gentle warmth settled on his arm; heart racing, he jerked away before staring up into Debra's startled face as she drew her hand back.

"I-I'm sorry." A single tear ran down her cheek, making Murdock feel like a bona fide heel.

He plastered the widest grin he could manage on his face and gently patted her shoulder. It was harder keeping the smile in place when her dark, watery eyes peered over at him.

"BA and the others…" She paused to choke back a feeble sob. "T-they are w-walking into a trap, and I d-don't think they'll make it this t-time." The last sentence was a mere whisper. "Blackburn is going to kill them."

* * *

><p>Hannibal shifted around in the back of the catering van; it really wasn't that comfortable, but with BA driving and Face on the mend, he bit the bullet and crammed himself into the tight space.<p>

It was late evening; he hadn't meant to keep BA away from the cabin for so long, but Face had needed some medical attention and the local walk-in clinic had been slower than molasses. Dosed with another round of painkillers and with his arm in a sling and ribs taped up, Face slept peacefully in the passenger's seat.

BA, for his part, had remained quiet, making the long drive up the remote road feel particularly lonely for the Colonel. At least they'd be at the cabin soon, but Debra had to be a bundle of worry by now. Hannibal frowned. How many more people was he going to disappoint?

Deciding to forgo the self-induced guilt trip, Hannibal instead started to focus on devising a new plan. If they wanted to get out of this mess alive, they were going to need a damn good plan.

"Cabin's just ahead," BA said softly, keeping his eyes on the road. "Looks like Debra left the porch light on for us."

"Nice gal," Hannibal replied. "She's going to be ok when this is all over; you know that, right?"

BA didn't answer right away, as he pulled the catering van around to the back of the cabin and parked it next to the team's regular rig. He turned the engine off, letting the keys jingle a little in his hand as he worked them free of the ignition.

"Yeah, she's gonna be ok." BA turned, his face concerned, serious. "We _all_ are."

"Yeah," Hannibal replied, moved his Sergant's words. "You're right." He paused, trying to find some way to lighten the mood. "Now, who gets to carry Face inside? I don't think he'll be able to make it on his own."

BA grinned. "Fool had enough painkillers to take down a horse. Maybe if he hadn't been distracting the nurse so much she would've been paying better attention to what she was doing. The man is lucky she didn't kill him."

"Yeah, he'll probably be out for a while." Hannibal chuckled as he slid open the door and stepped out. "You got him?"

"Yeah, I got him." BA said as he made his way around to the Face's side of the van, but, before he opened the passenger side door, he stopped. "Hey Hannibal?"

"Yeah?" Hannibal froze, detecting the hint of alarm in BA's voice.

"Hood has been popped on my van, man. Looks like someone was messing with it."

Hannibal immediately set into combat mode, flattening himself against the catering van and scanning the surrounding area. "You sure, BA?"

But BA couldn't answer, not with the sudden eruption of gunfire all around them.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Amidst the hail of bullets, Face groggily opened his eyes. Smacking his lips, he frowned down at his rumpled clothes. Were they still at the clinic? The last thing he remembered was asking a gorgeous brunette nurse for her number, and now? He blinked sleepily. What was all that noise and, more importantly, did he get that nurse's number?

He didn't even flinch as the windshield shattered, sending tiny, blue tinted pieces of glass showering down on him. Mind foggy, Face used his good arm to brush the glass off his suit and out of his hair.

"Face, get down, fool. Gonna get yourself killed!"

BA? Face glanced around, wondering where the heck the Sergeant was hiding. He was a rather large guy so to have hidden so well was truly_ amazing_.

"Lieutenant, get down now! That's an order!"

Hannibal's voice quickly set Face into action. Diving for cover, he tried to flop to the floor between the catering van's two bucket seats but found himself suspended by his seatbelt. Pawing at the buckle, he succeeded in freeing himself but had miscalculated exactly what that was going to entail. Head first, he hit the floor.

"Aw man, Hannibal, I hit my head." Rolling onto his back, Face stared up at the ceiling of the van. "Hannibal?"

"I hear you, but I'm pretty busy right now." Hannibal paused as another round of gunfire sounded. "Face, how's your head?"

Well, wasn't that a funny question. "Fine, why do you ask?"

"Fool, you just said you hit it," BA shouted, his face looming for a split second outside the passenger side window before disappearing again. "Hannibal, he's no good to us right now. Those drugs got him all loopy. There's no way we can give Faceman a gun. We're on our own."

_Drugs? Loopy?_ _Gun? _Face started to sit up, but a wave of dizziness quickly forced him back down. He closed his eyes, and that seemed to lessen the wooziness.

"Hannibal?"

"Yeah Face?"

"I'm gonna go back to sleep now, ok? Don't think I have much choice in the matter though." Face curled up slightly, and let out a low sigh. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's ok, kid. BA and I will take care of this."

"Hannibal?"

"Yeah?"

"Um… ah…oh yeah, did I get that nurse's number?"

Even with all the commotion, the Colonel's amused chuckle could be heard. "It's in your front left jacket pocket."

Smiling to himself, Face slowly drifted off to sleep as the gunfire continued.

* * *

><p>Despite Jason and Debra's protests, Murdock kept working at the locked door. The fact that Roger's truck was still parked outside bothered the Captain, but he couldn't wait for the thug to leave; there wasn't time for that.<p>

"If they catch you sneaking out, the Sheriff might just hand you over to _that guy_." Debra's voice was strained with concern. "You aren't in any condition to go after them. Murdock stop, please?"

With a soft click, the door swung open. Good thing Facey had been giving him lessons on lock picking.

He stood, carefully edged around Jason and Debra and plucked his jacket off the wall. It was still too wet to wear, but he doubted he would be able to return for it later.

Turning back toward the door, he was surprised to find Debra blocking his way. Jason stood off to the side, his steady gaze fixed on his wife.

"I know…" Debra frowned. "…that you have to go. I know that, but…" She drew in a deep breath, held it a moment and then slowly released it. "Don't get yourself killed, and…and…save BA, please? I'm just so sorry that I got you all into this mess."

She stepped forward, burying her face into Murdock's chest. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her, offering what comfort he could. Finally, Jason stepped forward, taking his sobbing wife away from the Captain and into his own arms.

"We'll be fine," Jason said softly to Murdock. "Don't worry, just go."

Murdock nodded, but he wasn't about to leave them before he was sure they'd be safe, and that meant doing a full sweep of the house; it meant tracking down Roger.

Turning away, he quickly stepped out into the hallway. More than anything he just wanted to curl back up in the warm bed. When this was over, he was gonna sleep for a week straight. His stomach gurgled, reminding him to make it grandiose promises involving gluttonous amounts of milkshakes and burgers.

But, Murdock's thoughts of food were soon interrupted by a single gunshot.

* * *

><p>Hannibal leaned back, pressing himself against the cool metal of the van. He glanced over at his Sergeant; BA paused only a moment to return his Colonel's hard stare. They were trapped. Whoever was out there had them pinned down tight.<p>

With a little luck, BA had managed to salvage some weapons from a hidden compartment in the GMC van, but their ammo would only last so long. Plus, they were leery of shooting at the cabin; Debra could still be inside, and they couldn't take that chance.

Face remained quiet, which was both a relief and a concern to Hannibal. The man needed rest, but, in his current state, they wouldn't know if a bullet hit him. Hell, with the amount of painkillers coursing through him, Face probably wouldn't even feel it if he was hit.

Things definitely weren't looking good. There had to be at least a dozen armed men surrounding them, and they were all constantly shifting positions. Hannibal sighed, really wishing his last cigar was with him and not safely tucked in Face's pocket. He needed a smoke, and, more importantly, they needed a plan.

* * *

><p>Murdock crept down the stairs. Everything was silent save for the uneven rhythm of someone's faltered breathing. Peeking around a corner, the Captain froze.<p>

"Hey." Roger grinned over at Murdock. "Glad to see you've joined the party. Why don't you step a bit closer?"

His fight or flight instinct kicking in, everything in Murdock screamed at him to run, but, hesitantly, he stepped forward. Running wasn't an option, not with the Sheriff on the floor, slumped up against a wall, blood coating his side.

"It seems…" Roger's eyes were gleaming as he studied Murdock. "…that the Sheriff had a change of heart. Looks like you're coming with me after all."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Staring at Roger, Murdock desperately clung to the remnants of his dwindling courage. The Captain could sense his frenzied mind shutting down, trying to shield itself from the sting of reality. As he fought to remain cognizant, tension welled behind his eyes, threatening to produce a storm of hot tears. But, through his chaotic jumble of thoughts, gentle reminders of the people depending on him surfaced, and, focused on these, he regained his dogged resolve. There was no way he was gonna let his team down.

_Facey, BA, Hannibal, I promise I'm still coming…just hold on, muchachos. _

From the floor, the Sheriff let out a weak moan, drawing Murdock's attention. The man's pale, sweat-drenched face was pinched with agony, his wheezing breath hitched before resuming its uneven, shallow pace. A growing pool of blood appeared beside him, adding further urgency to his need for medical attention.

Roger gave a short snort of laughter, aiming his gun at the wounded man. "Maybe I should put him out of his misery, yeah?"

Muscles tensed, Murdock considered lunging forward but knew he wouldn't be able to wrestle the gun away before the man got his shot off. Plus, with Debra and Jason upstairs, he couldn't chance any stray was no way he was gonna put Debra in danger. He almost smiled as he thought of surviving all this only to be done in by the ugly mudsucker. Yeah, that would be just his luck.

"Or maybe…" Roger turned the gun on Murdock. "You and I should just head out now. What do you think about that?"

Murdock shrugged. There were at least a million things he'd rather do, like lick an electric fence or dine on slugs at one of Facey's boring French restaurants, but, staring down at the dying man on the floor, he knew he had to get Roger out of there as quickly as possible; hopefully, once they were gone, Debra and Jason would get the Sheriff the help he needed.

A crooked grin spread across Roger's face. "Here's how it's gonna go…Blackburn and the others can spend all the time they want trying to flush the info out of your boys up at Chadhill's cabin, but you and I…" He paused to wet his lips, his wild gaze burning into Murdock. "We're gonna go get that gold before Blackburn can. We're just gonna head out to my truck and you're gonna show me where your buddies stashed the gold and those little love birds upstairs won't have to get hurt, alright?"

Murdock blinked. _Was this guy mental too?_ How was he supposed to know where the gold was; he had been held captive when Hannibal had made off with the armored vehicle. Roger might not have been the brains of this operation, but couldn't he at least sort out that little bit of detective work on his own? Geez, the guy had to be dumber than a wet rock. Indignation settled over Murdock as he realized this idiot was one of the guys that had nearly killed him, _twice! _

"So, you just do what I say and no one in this house will get hurt, ok?" Roger reached into his jacket, pulled out a pair of cuffs and tossed them down at Murdock's feet. "Put those on…nice and tight."

Obediently, Murdock put the cuffs on; he wasn't about to try anything—yet. As Roger herded him outside, toward the truck, the Captain started to devise his plan. It wasn't going to be pretty, but it would work.

* * *

><p>BA kept his eyes trained on the cabin. Was she still in there? It took every ounce of his self-control not to break cover, charge the house and find Debra. He'd never make it, but even that realization hardly seemed to matter to him any longer. She was counting on him, and he was letting her down.<p>

"Hey, how much ammo you got left?" Hannibal tossed his empty gun aside.

BA shrugged, wishing he had better news. "I'm out, Hannibal."

The Colonel sighed, his blue eyes twinkling with fading embers of the jazz. "I was afraid of that."

BA tossed his own useless gun aside. It would only be a matter of time before their attackers descended on them. Slumping down, the big Sergeant buried his face into his hands, letting the precious seconds tick by as he muttered a silent prayer.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is the way?" Roger asked, for the twentieth time.<p>

With a wide grin, Murdock nodded. Ok, he was pretty sure he had just led the guy in a giant circle, but he was narrowing in on the required location.

"You'd better be."

It was hard to stay upbeat with a rifle barrel pressed against his kneecap, but Murdock gave it his best effort. Of course, having a trigger happy finger on the other end of said rifle really wasn't helping either. Plus, that just so happened to be Murdock's second favorite kneecap, so he really kind of wanted to keep it fully intact. Looking at the positive though, the fact that Roger hadn't accidently fired the gun as he managed to drive one-handed down the rutted dirt roads was a small miracle in itself.

Spotting what he had been searching for, Murdock frantically began to point out the window, and Roger quickly stopped the truck. Opening his door, Roger stepped out and then forced Murdock to slide over and exit out the driver's side door as well.

"Show me."

Murdock marched over to the side of the road and peered down the steep embankment. Yep, it was perfect.

"Here?" Roger hesitantly stepped closer, his gun loosely held in his hands as he gaped down the ridge. "I don't see it."

In a flash, Murdock simultaneously ducked and lunged at Roger. The man got off a single shot before the Captain's lanky body flung him off balance, sending him toppling end over end down the ferny slope.

Nervously watching the man roll to a stop at the bottom of the hill, it took Murdock a moment to register the dull pain in his arm. Carefully, he examined the small patch of blood on his bicep; it was only a graze, needing a stitch or two, but that had certainly been a closer call than he had expected.

Quickly, he ripped off a strip of cloth from his tee-shirt and wrapped the wound. There wasn't time to clean it; he'd just have to hope for the best. Finishing his makeshift first aid, Murdock started down the slope. Hands still in cuffs, he found the easiest mode of transportation was scooting on his rear. The process was painfully slow, but, eventually, he made it down to Roger's still form.

Working the keys to the cuffs from the man's pocket, Murdock was relieved to see that Roger was still breathing. The guy might have been a ruthless killer, but Murdock wasn't.

After undoing his cuffs, the Captain hauled Roger to a nearby pine tree. Wrapping the unconscious man's arms around the trunk, he cuffed his hands, trapping him in a arborous embrace. One final search of the thug's pockets provided the Captain with the truck keys.

Grinning to himself, Murdock carefully made his way back up the slope.

_I'm coming Facey…just like I promised! Well, just as soon as I figure out where the heck Chadhill cabin is._

* * *

><p>BA and Hannibal put their hands up as the armed men slowly drew closer. Surrounded, they had nowhere to run.<p>

"So, we meet again." Rusty stepped forward, his feigned amusement falling flat; he was obviously getting tired of the back and forth of this game. "Where's the gold?"

Hannibal smiled. "Gold? I'm afraid I don't know anything about your gold. We're just birdwatchers that happened to come up here looking for the rare, majestic grey-headed chickadee."

"Man, Hannibal," BA sighed, "that bird don't live in these parts. It's native to Alaska and Canada. Couldn't ya have at least picked something that actually was found here?"

Surprised, Hannibal eyed his Sergeant carefully, before settling into the light-hearted banter. "Well, BA, that's what makes it so rare and hard to find, _and _I really doubt these gentlemen knew it didn't reside in these parts. But I gotta ask…how do you know so much about the grey-headed chickadee?"

"Well, because…" BA offered a weak grin. "…we're birdwatchers, right?"

Hannibal's deep chuckle was interrupted as Rusty's men forced them to their feet and started moving them toward the cabin. The Colonel quickly noted that BA's smile was gone as his eyes settled firmly on the building ahead. This was one mission they really coudn't afford to mess up.

"Hey," Rusty called out. "Search the van; I think the third one is in there."

The Colonel held his breath as he heard the catering van door slide open. Hopefully Face wouldn't put up too much of a struggle in his drugged state. Rusty's men were looking a bit haggard; there was no telling what they might do.

After a brief sound of retching, a weak voice called out. "Oh man, Rusty, this guy is toast."

Frozen in place, Hannibal listened to the sound of the door sliding shut, and then Rusty's man slowly made his way back into view; his face a rather sickly shade of green. "Looks like a headshot," he offered, seeming to fight back another urge to empty his stomach. "It's not pretty."

Hannibal tensed, every fiber of his being wanting to go over and check on his man, but the gun pressed against BA's head quickly stopped him.

Rusty shrugged. "Whatever, we'll get the info we need out of these two." He turned his cold gaze to Hannibal. "Looks like I've killed two of your men now. Should I try for a third, or are you gonna tell me where you stashed the gold?"

Gritting his teeth, Hannibal glared back. One way or another, he was going to make this man pay.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Apparently, people consider it extremely peculiar for a grown man to communicate via crayon and paper, or at least that's the impression Murdock got out the situation. The vast majority of his time with the gas station attendant was spent trying to assure the man that he was _not_ on the receiving end of some ill-conceived prank—which was apparently not entirely believable as the explanation itself was scrawled in green Crayola. After a frustrating amount of time, and with directions to Chadhill's cabin finally in hand, Murdock thanked the man as best he could before setting off. _What was wrong with writing in crayon anyway?_

Fifteen tense minutes of driving later, the Captain pulled up to the cabin. The silence was unsettling. He peered out of the truck, his gaze shifting over the evident signs of a firefight. The cabin was riddled with bullet holes; its windows were shattered, its door ajar. Murdock held his breath as he eyed the shell casing littering the ground. Whatever had happened, it didn't look as if it ended well.

Cautiously, the Captain stepped out of the vehicle, unsure whether he wanted to know what he might find. Creeping forward, he glanced into the cabin but only toppled, broken furniture remained inside. His heart sank. If the team wasn't here, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to find them.

Then, a faint tapping caught Murdock's attention. Following the sound, he edged around the outside of the cabin and found the catering van parked next to BA's rig. The GMC's hood was up, and a lone figure was bent over the engine tinkering with wires.

Some semblance of relief seeping into him, Murdock slowly stepped forward. _Facey?_

Face spun around, his oozing red scalp nearly giving Murdock a heart attack. Unfazed by his condition, the con-man gave the biggest, brightest grin that could have possibly ever adorned his handsome visage.

"Murdock! You're alive and you're here; I'm so happy…" Extending his one good arm, Face hurried forward, locking the pilot in a tight embrace. "I've missed you so much, buddy."

Wiggling free of the hug, Murdock quickly took hold of Face's head, turning it back and forth as he tried to locate the source of the bleeding. _How was Facey even mobile with such a wound?_

"Um, what are you doing?" Face asked, remaining surprisingly calm as Murdock poked, prodded and surveyed every inch of his cranium. "You know, my stylist is going to kill me. All that tomato paste can't be good for my hair."

_Tomato paste? _Murdock paused to sniff his friend's head. Yep, that wasn't blood; it smelled like those horrible pizzas Faceman had been feeding the crew back at the movie set. Wrinkling his nose, he released Face, letting the man stand up straight again.

"I played possum so well that I made a guy throw up. Can you believe that?" Face laughed, holding onto Murdock for support as he swayed slightly.

Still concerned, Murdock peered into Face's blue eyes, finding the pupils a little too unfocused for his liking. _What's up with you Faceman?_

"Ah…oh…I might still be a little out of it." A tired sigh escaped from the con-man. "A nurse gave me a few too many painkillers earlier at the local clinic and I'm still trying to burn off the side effects."

Crossing his arms, Murdock nodded. That made sense, and, if he had to guess, Facey had that same nurse's number tucked away in his pocket.

"Aw, man, Hannibal and BA…" Face groaned, "…Blackburn's men have them. We might be able to catch up to them, but the catering van has four flats and…" Face paused, glaring back at the GMC's popped hood. "…someone messed with the engine and I haven't been having much luck with it." His gaze turned hopefully to Murdock. "Do you think you could fix it?"

Murdock smirked. _Does Sasquatch poop in the woods?_

Face raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure; was that a yes?"

With a soundless laugh, Murdock nodded. It was good to have Facey back. Now, all they had to do was track down Hannibal and BA _and_ maybe wash some of that sauce out of Face's hair; the man looked dreadful as a redhead.

* * *

><p>As Rusty's truck lurched down the road, Ba sat quietly next to Hannibal in the back. He couldn't bring himself to look over at the man; he didn't want to see the hurt in his Colonel's eyes. Neither of them would fully believe that their comrades were dead—not until they saw the bodies for themselves. Yet the doubt and grief was still settling into them, and there was only one way BA knew to drive it away; he let a stronger emotion take over.<p>

He hadn't felt such a white-hot surge of rage in a long time, and he had _never_ kept himself in check under such a powerful urge to act before. Still, he didn't know where Debra was yet, and that was the _only_ thing keeping these fools alive.

The truck stopped and BA felt a rifle barrel jab him in the ribs.

"We're here," Jeff said, glancing around nervously, "get out."

Hannibal stumbled as one of the men shoved him out of the truck, but no one bothered BA as he slowly maneuvered himself out. Yeah, people normally gave him his space, if they knew what was good for him. BA growled; they were gonna pay though for pushing Hannibal around.

Rusty appeared before them with a smug grin on his young face. "So, where exactly is the gold? I don't see it yet."

"In there," Hannibal said, pointing at a sagging grey shack hidden within a tangle of blackberry vines.

A knowing glance passed between BA and Hannibal. Once Blackburn's men had the gold, they wouldn't need their hostages any longer.

"Where's Debra?" BA demanded, breaking eye contact with Hannibal so that he could glare over at Rusty.

Pausing, the man stared back at the Sergeant and laughed; it was a hollow, cruel sound. "Why should I tell you?" He turned away, heading toward the shack before absently adding, "Maybe she's taking a swim with your skinny little friend in a swift moving river."

And with that, whatever floodgate that had been holding back BA's fury broke.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one**

"Hey, come on, Murdock, slow down a little." Sure, Face wanted to get to Hannibal and BA as much as the Captain, but he _really _preferred to get there in one piece. "You know, these back roads really weren't built for speed."

Hunched over the steering wheel, Murdock flashed a mischievously toothy grin at Face—which unsurprisingly didn't help ease the con-man's fears of careening off the road.

"Ok…" Face closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, trying to take his mind off their break-neck speed. "…so, I think I made all the necessary calls and…"

The momentum of the van changed slightly, and a stomach-dropping wobble throughout the vehicle caused Face's eyes to snap open. Losing traction on the loose gravel, the van skid into a watery ditch and then, from sheer velocity, immediately popped back out. There was a brief flurry of motion in the driver's seat as Murdock regained control.

For a moment, both men were silent as the van continued, at a much more practical speed, down the road. Slowly, Face turned to look at his friend. Wide-eyed and white-knuckled, the Captain was only able to muster the sheepish of grins. Adrenaline fading, Face couldn't' help himself; he started laughing.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks before he could draw in enough breath to speak again. "Murdock, BA is going to _kill us_."

The Captain nodded happily, obviously enjoying Face's little outburst, but still looking a little shaken from the whole ordeal.

Face gave a contented sigh; it had felt good to laugh like that. Sure, he could blame it on the meds from the clinic, but the truth was that he was just so relieved to have his best friend back. He had really thought—just for a bit—that maybe he had lost him for good this time.

Sensing that he was being watched, Face glanced over at Murdock. The Captain's brown eyes were searching, questioning while his mouth pursed in a slight frown.

"I'm fine," Face said with a soft chuckle, but could tell that the gentle brush-off wasn't going to work. "I just…back at the bridge…"

Murdock's attention was back on the road, his frown tightening.

It was hard to keep his voice audible; the words just seemed to weaken as he said them. "I was really scared…I-I thought you were gone."

In a flash, the Captain's expression changed. Head cocked toward Face, his eyes twinkled as he gave a coy little smile. It was his patented '_Aw, you do care!' _look.

"Of course I care," Face laughed, "if I didn't have you around, who would be the brunt of all BA's bad attitude?"

Murdock batted his lashes a little.

"Yes, I'd miss that beautiful face of yours as well."

Again, that slight look of surprised amusement crossed the Captain's expression. Face grinned; the man still thought he could read his mind, did he? Heck, Murdock was as animated as a cartoon character. Sure, he could surprise the team plenty with some of his quirky ideas, but, most of the time, he was pretty predictable—at least to Face.

"Turn here, Murdock. We'll stash the van and head the rest of the way on foot; it'd probably be best if we caught them off-guard."

Murdock pulled off the road, hiding the van well back within the dense trees, but as he pulled the keys from the ignition, he gave Face a long, inquisitive glance.

"I'll be ok…the drugs are wearing off." Which meant the pain was coming back, but he decided to leave that little tidbit out. Besides, Murdock was probably hurting more than he was. "What about you, buddy? How are you feeling?"

Pulling a pistol from his waistband, the Captain settled into his best James Bond pose.

"Alright," Face laughed, "You're ready then?"

Murdock nodded and the light-hearted mood departed as they both shifted into combat mode. It was time to save BA and Hannibal.

* * *

><p>At the top of the ridge, Hannibal paused; his breath was raspy, his heart pounding. Shots echoed through the woods where he had last seen BA—before they got separated. He could only hope that his Sergeant was holding his own.<p>

Another of Blackburn's men lunged at the Colonel, but he was too quick to be taken that easily. He swung around, catching the attacker hard in the face. The guy crumpled, but not before Hannibal got one more punch in. It wasn't sportsmanlike, but, damn it, these guys had _really_ ticked him off.

He stripped the fallen man of his pistol and ammo and glanced back at the woods. There was no way he was going to lose a third man. That lone thought suddenly shamed him. He hadn't lost_ any_ men, not yet. They were alive; they had to be.

A twig snapped directly behind him and he spun around, instinctively striking out. The man who had so stealthy snuck up on Hannibal sunk to his knees with a weak groan.

"Geez, Hannibal, really?" Face was gingerly touching his cheekbone. "Did you have to hit me? That is going to leave such a mark!"

Mind fuzzy as his haze of grief lifted, Hannibal gaped at his Lieutenant. "Face…I-I thought you were dead."

"So you hit me! Come on, Hannibal, your Grandma Smith has departed, but please don't tell me you'd punch her in the face if she walked up to you today."

Regaining his wits, Hannibal grinned and helped Face back up to his feet. "It's good to see you, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, sure," Face quipped, "I'd hate to see your reaction if it wasn't good to see me." Still rubbing his cheek, he flashed a grin at Hannibal. "Oh, and if you happen to see Murdock, he's not dead either, so don't go punching _him_ in the face, ok?"

"Murdock?"

"You know—the lanky, goofy fellow with the crazy gleam in his eyes and an affinity for imaginary dogs."

Hannibal grinned. "Yeah, I get it, Face, but what about him? Did you locate the Captain?"

"Actually, he located me back at the cabin. We got BA's van up and running and came here to rescue you guys, but…" He glanced around at the limp bodies surrounding them. "…it doesn't look like you need much help."

"Where's Murdock now?" The Colonel shifted; he wasn't going to feel relaxed until he had all his men back in his sight once again.

"We split up," Face replied quickly, "but he should be heading up the ridge soon." An air of hope entered the Lieutenant's voice. "Maybe he found BA?"

Hannibal shrugged. Maybe, but with the luck the team had been having lately, he wouldn't bet on it.

* * *

><p>Murdock had always enjoyed pleasant jaunts through the woods. The smells, the sounds, the sights—they were all so delightful! Glancing up, he found Rusty's limp form draped within the broken branches of an oak. <em>Now, how did he get up there? <em>Murdock grinned. _Looks like BA's handiwork._

Marching on, the Captain decided that the best way to track the ugly mudsucker was to follow the trail of pummeled bad guys. It was like Hansel and Gretel with a twist! Daydreaming of the possibility of BA and him finding a life-sized gingerbread house, Murdock nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden thunder of gunshots.

After diving for cover, he peered out to find BA in a clearing surrounded by five guys, and, if that wasn't bad enough, a sixth guy was lurking back in the trees taking shots at the big guy. Without a second of hesitation, Murdock was sprinting toward the gunman. Launching himself through the air, he tackled the guy— hard.

The impact had knocked the goon out, but—Murdock grimaced as he stood up—it also _really _hurt. Seeing that BA was still struggling with the other five guys, the Captain made his way into the clearing, with perhaps a little less vigor than he had before his daring tackle.

Taking a stance behind BA, he made quick work of one of the thugs, but, of course, by the time he was finished, BA had already taken out the other four. Ok, so maybe the big guy hadn't really needed his help after all. Still, it's the thought that counts, right?

Murdock turned, ready to tap the ugly mudsucker on the shoulder, when a flash of gold clad fist filled his vision and then everything went dark.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

BA paused, his breathing ragged after having floored another goon. The onslaught of Blackburn's men and been unrelenting, but, fortunately, he was up for the challenge. These fools needed a lesson—a lesson in pain.

Thoughts trailing, he scowled down at the man who had crumpled beneath his last blow. There was something familiar about him. BA's pulsing anger ebbed, replaced by a rising, sickening dread. For a long moment, he stood, not wanting to believe what he had done.

"Murdock?" BA dropped into a crouch and placed a large hand on the Captain's shoulder. "Come on, fool, say something, please?" Those were words he _never _thought he'd hear himself utter.

The pilot's mouth gently tightened in slight frown as he gave a nearly inaudible sigh, but then, as a shudder racked his body, his face eased back into a tranquil state of oblivion.

BA swallowed down the knot of guilt growing in his throat as he checked the crazy man's vitals. His pulse was a little slow, but not alarmingly so; his breathing, while still a bit shallow, didn't seem overly strained.

"Ok, you gonna be ok; you hear me?" BA carefully looped his arms beneath the lanky man and slowly lifted him off the ground. Rage suppressed beneath his overwhelming shame, BA hung his head, muttering softly, "I'm sorry, fool. I didn't mean it."

* * *

><p>As they made their way down the slope, Hannibal eyed his Lieutenant carefully. The man looked absolutely beat. The meds had to be wearing off and every step he took lined his face with pain.<p>

The Colonel was just about to suggest they stop to rest when they spotted BA and Murdock, and whatever pain was plaguing Face was quickly forgotten at the sight of the crazy pilot dangling limply in BA's arms.

"BA!" Hannibal sprinted forward. "What happened?"

"Fool is gonna be ok. He's just knocked out is all." The Sergeant hesitated, his dark eyes pleadingly searching his comrades. "I-I punched him, but I didn't mean to…" he added, his muscled shoulders hunching pitifully. "I-I thought you two was dead."

"WHAT?" Face tossed his one good arm up in disgust. "Why does that justify hitting us? I don't understand."

Even Hannibal had to cringe at the tone of Face's voice; after all, he and the Sergeant were both guilty. "At ease Lieutenant; it was an accident. Right, BA?"

BA nodded, his stern expression hampered with guilt and concern. "I didn't mean to."

There was a moment of silence as Face checked over his friend still cradled in the big guy's arms.

"I know, BA. It's alright." Glancing down the slope, Face gave a tired sigh. "I guess we really should get going. Every officer in the county is going to be here within the hour."

"And why would that be?" Hannibal asked, thrusting a hand, palm up, in front of Face.

"Well…" Like clockwork, Face dug into his jacket, took out a cigar and handed it to Hannibal. "…would you believe an anonymous tip?"

After bitting off the tip of the cigar, Hannibal frowned. Was that tomato sauce he tasted? Suspiciously, he eyed Face's red tinted hair. Yeah, he'd have to ask about that later.

"Alright, Face lead the way to the van. BA…" He paused to light his cigar and give the Sergeant a warm grin. "…try not to drop Murdock, ok?"

"What about Debra? How do we know she's safe?"

Face quickly chimed in. "Oh, I talked to her on the phone on the way over here. She's fine. Debra, Jason and the Sheriff are all at the local hospital. Something about a near fatal gunshot wound."

"She's hurt?" BA lunged toward Face, very nearly dropping the unconscious pilot.

"No!" Face stepped back, a hesitant yet reassuring grin quickly forming. "Apparently the Sheriff was shot. Debra is _ab-so-lute-ly_ fine."

BA's forehead wrinkled at that last statement. Hannibal was barely able to hold his chuckle in. Somehow, the Colonel doubted any of them wanted to hear Face calling their old flames _absolutely fine_ and certainly not in the way he just did.

"Ok, boys, let's get moving. I don't want to be around when the fuzz gets here and the Captain looks like he could use a little medical attention himself."

Face, looking a little squeamish under BA's gaze, nodded. "Yeah, we can't use the nearest hospital, but there's one about two towns over that should be clear."

Hannibal took a puff off his cigar. "After that, we won't be able to send Murdock back to the VA for a bit, at least not until he heals up some…so, I was thinking…"

"I already called her." Face grinned. "Maggie is expecting us within the week."

Hannibal eyed his Lieutenant carefully. "Is there anything you didn't take care of yet?"

Face seemed to think this over a moment before he shook his head. "Nope."

Raising an eyebrow, Hannibal couldn't help but see this as a challenge. "What about the movie set?"

"I already called them."

Hmm, maybe he had thought of everything. "When do they want us back?"

"Susan and half the crew walked; they need to find a new actress and more funding. We're on hiatus."

That was a bummer. "What about the catering van? Don't you need to get that back?"

Face frowned. "Well…that's why the crew and Susan walked. I guess there was a pretty bad bout of food poisoning that went around. They thought it had something to do with…uh…well… expired pizza products. I already sold the van; a guy should be picking it up as we speak."

Wow, Hannibal was impressed. He knew Face was good but this good?

"Shoot!" Face palmed his forehead, any remaining shreds of smugness deflating.

"What did you forget, Lieutenant?"

Face shrugged, heading off into the woods as the others followed. "I had a date tonight with that vixen I met last week, Wanda, and _that_ I forgot."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-three**

Murdock woke slowly, surprised to find himself in a hospital bed.

A shuffle of motion was quickly followed by Face's soft voice. "Hey buddy, how're you doing?"

Blinking up at the conman's concerned expression, Murdock grinned and gave a thumbs up, but that hardly seemed to ease the tension in the room. Gradually, his gaze shifted from Face to Hannibal and BA, who stood further off. They were smiling back at him, but there was a sense of gravity clinging to them.

Alarmed, he looked back to Face, but the unease he saw in his friend's eyes brought no comfort.

_What? What is it? _In a panic, he sat up.

"Murdock, the doctors aren't sure…" Face paused, a long sigh rolling out of him. "T-they're not sure if you'll get your voice back…at all."

A sudden sting throbbed in the Captain's eyes as he suppressed his tears. It wouldn't be so bad; he had Facey, after all. He grinned, but it felt unnatural under the pressure of his mounting grief.

In one swift motion, Face stepped forward and wrapped him in a warm embrace. That was all it took; Murdock relaxed, letting his tears fall. After a couple of minutes, the Captain pulled back, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

"We're going to have to get moving soon," Hannibal said quietly. "Decker is on his way. Someone tipped him off that we were here." The Colonel shrugged, his pale eyes fixed on Murdock. "I'm really sorry about all this, Captain, but we're going to take you to Maggie. She might be able to…"

He let the sentence trail, and Murdock smiled sadly. False hope wasn't going to help him any; he was glad the Colonel had seen that.

"I'll keep a lookout for Decker," Hannibal finally said, stepping to the window. "Face, you and BA can help Murdock to the van."

BA was instantly beside the bed, brushing Face back. "Fool, you can't go helping with no busted shoulder. Let me help the crazy man."

There was some obvious reluctance on Face's part to just stand back and watch, but he complied. Gingerly, Murdock rose, leaning heavily on BA.

"Man," Ba muttered. "I'm sorry I hit you."

Vaguely, the memory of a fist came back to him and he stared wide-eyed up at the ugly mudsucker.

"I didn't know it was you…I promise."

Murdock gave a huffed, genuine laugh. In retrospect, it was funny, and seeing how upset BA was over the whole situation actually made him feel better.

"Hey," Face chimed in as they headed out of the room, "why don't we stop at Bellybuster's on the way to Maggie's? I know the doc said no solid foods yet for Murdock, but we can get a round of milkshakes."

Jaw dropping, Murdock gaped at Faceman. Not only could he read his mind, but he could step into the future and read his mind, because a Bellybuster's strawberry shake was _exactly_ what he wanted, he just hadn't thought of it yet.

There was no doubt about it; Face was amazing.

* * *

><p><em>One week later…<em>

BA sat in Maggie's kitchen, drinking a glass of milk. He'd already fixed darn near everything on her property that needed attending to, and he was desperately trying to come up with a new project.

With flourish, Murdock bobbed into the room, his body swaying, fingers snapping to some unheard music. The crazy man had been like that ever since they got to Maggie's—playing some fool music in his head. BA frowned. Even without a voice the man could annoy him.

Pulling up a seat next to BA, the pilot whipped a coupon out of his pocket and held it up to his forehead with the words toward him so that BA couldn't see it. Then, with disturbing intensity, he stared at BA.

"Fool, if you don't stop that right now I'm gonna make you stop."

Murdock kept staring, his eyes growing wider and veins bulging in his forehead.

"Faceman can't read your mind and neither can I, so you better knock it off."

The fool let out a sigh, the tension easing from his body as he laid his head onto the table with the coupon still plastered to his forehead.

BA snatched up the slip of paper. "What is this anyways?" He skimmed the words and frowned. "Frozen yogurt? Man, I'm not eating no frozen yogurt!"

Murdock plucked the coupon out of BA's hands and adamantly pointed to the words '_world's best yogurt' _written on the paper. Then, with a beaming smile, he gestured to the line '_buy one get one free.'_

Shaking his head, BA watched the fool stare sadly down at the table. It didn't matter how pathetic the crazy man looked; he was _not _taking him out for frozen yogurt.

Lip quivering, Murdock glanced up and opened his mouth, but BA's glare quickly stopped the man. The fool could talk in a low whisper, but Maggie had cautioned him against it. He'd heal quicker if he remained quiet.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Face sauntered into the room, looking refreshed after his nap.

"The fool is trying to get me to read his mind," BA growled. "He wants to go out for…"

But Murdock quickly silenced BA with a wave of his hand. Slapping the coupon back to his forehead, he focused his concentration on Face.

The conman grinned, but his amusement slowly turned to discomfort as he fidgeted under the Captain's gaze. "You want to go for a walk?" Face guessed, causing Murdock to cringe, but still the stare continued. "You want to go out to see a movie? You want to go roller-skating? You want to go to Bellybuster's?"

Each wrong answer seemed to deflate the pilot a little more, until his head was laid down on the table again.

"Um, Murdock? I'm sorry, buddy, but I'm really not a mind reader."

Slowly, the fool stood and trudged out of the kitchen with his coupon, probably on his way to find Hannibal and try the process all over again.

"Maybe I should go after him…" Face said but remained still.

"Naw, man. The fool needs to understand that all that mind reading stuff is crazy talk. It's your fault he believes in it anyway. Just give him some time."

"I guess so." Face sighed, still staring in the direction Murdock had went. "But, I hate to leave things like this." Slowly he headed out after the fool. "Plus…" he added. "…I suddenly have a hankering for frozen yogurt. I bet Murdock would like that; maybe I'll take him out for some."

As Face left, BA frowned down at his milk, vowing to forget that whole conversation had just happened.

* * *

><p><em>Two months later…<em>

Murdock sat in his room at the VA staring at the door. Face was on his way and he, reluctantly, was letting the pilot pull off his favorite breakout scam.

Wetting his lips, Murdock stood and walked to the door, before pressing his face against the tiny glass window. He waited for the perfect moment; it was right when nurse Pricket was walking by. Taking in a deep lungful of air, he braced himself and then let loose.

"Traaaaaaaashh baaaaaaaaags! I want Traaaaash baaags!"

It was hard to keep the yelling going as he watched Pricket nearly topple to the ground with fright. Still, he managed to kept up the tirade as she marched over to the door and peered up at him.

"Not this again," she muttered to herself before turning to yell down the hall. "Someone call Dr. Pepper, Murdock is having his trash bag fixation again."

_~fini~_


End file.
